


don't you worry, my friends (they'll never take us alive)

by BatWingsandBlackCats



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Espionage, F/F, Fluff, Hollstein - Freeform, Revolutionary War, Spies, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatWingsandBlackCats/pseuds/BatWingsandBlackCats
Summary: Co-Written by svelazquez1220Trenton, New Jersey, 1776Carmilla’s just trying to keep her head down and her tavern in one piece through the war, but that all comes crashing down when her brother Will, captain of the Hessian forces stationed in Trenton, drags a tiny angry spitfire of a spy into Carmilla’s tavern who forces Carmilla to make a move.A Prequel





	don't you worry, my friends (they'll never take us alive)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's been a very long time, I'm sorry lol. Life hasn't gotten any less crazy, just a more pleasant kind of crazy. Anyway, here’s our fic for the 2018 Carmilla Big Bang! We’ve started a trend of going back to the first AUs we developed together when the big bang comes around, and it was so cool to finally explore this AU. This particular fic is a prequel to this AU, which we intend to expand on down the line. Thanks for reading, and we hope you enjoy!!

Thursday, December 12th, 1776

 

Trenton, New Jersey 

 

Carmilla jumped, the pewter tankard in her hand slipping from her fingers and clattering loudly against the wooden floor as the door to her tavern burst open, slamming against the wall as four Hessian soldiers barged in, struggling to keep their hands on…someone.

 

“Would you stay still!” One growled, knocking over a chair as he yanked a small woman across the room.

 

At the head of this party was William, a furious look on his face and the sound of splintering wood reverberated around the room as he kicked chairs aside, pistol in hand, his hat missing and his green and red uniform askew and dusted with snow. Tankards and plates were knocked over, ale and cider and food spilling onto the floor.

 

Carmilla’s other patrons, people from around town who came in almost daily, scrambled from their chairs, shrieking and yelling as they attempted to get out of Will’s way. 

 

“Get your hands off me you—!” what sounded like a woman’s voice was cut off by a heavy thud and a gasp, one of the other soldiers having punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

 

“Carmilla, I require you cellar,” Will yelled as he stormed down the short hall to the left of the bar that led to Carmilla’s office and the cellar, tracking mud and snow as he went. Carmilla’s black cat that had been perched on the counter hissed loudly at the commotion, and leapt off the counter, streaking upstairs to Carmilla’s room.

 

“William!” Carmilla yelled furiously, storming after him. “William what the hell are you doing?!” 

 

“Let go of me!!” The woman screamed again, but her voice was weak and breathy, and she grunted again as another blow landed on her stomach. 

 

Carmilla bundleded her skirts in her hands and raced down the steps of the cellar after them.

 

“What is wrong with you!?” Carmilla yelled at her brother, smacking his arm. “You’re scaring all my patrons you asshole!”

 

"Watch it, sister,” Will growled, and momentarily moved his pistol from where it was pointed at the cluster of soldiers who were currently trying to hold down the woman, to point it at Carmilla before moving it back. “I require your cellar, but I don’t think it’ll be for long.” He gave Carmilla an unsettling grin. “I’ve found ourselves a spy, and I need a place to hold her before she swings from the gallows,” 

 

The soldiers across the cellar parted finally, many of them panting and rubbing at spots that Carmilla assumed were kicked or scratched. One of them looked like he had a bite on his arm that he’d yanked his sleeve up to inspect. The woman was tied to one of the support posts, her dress and bodice dirty and ripped from the scuffle, hair mussed.  She was shaking, breathing hard, clearly in rage and not fear, her teeth gritted as she glared at the other soldiers. A few scratches dotted her face, and Carmilla went to look back to Will but her stomach suddenly dropped, and her eyes flicked back to her.

 

She knew that face. 

 

“Maybe I won’t wait for the gallows,” Will said loudly, pulling back the hammer on his pistol with his thumb. “Maybe i’ll put you down right here—“

 

“Will, wait,” Carmilla said quickly grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind a few barrels of whisky. 

 

The fury in his eyes turned into a wicked gleam, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Are you sweet on her, Kitty Cat?” he crooned, “Don’t want me to shoot your little tart?” 

 

Carmilla rolled her eyes. "She’s not my tart, she’s the delivery girl.” She snapped. “Think about it Will, she could have information, locations of camps, names, battle strategies even. She’s worth more alive than dead. At least for now. And I do not want the floor of my cellar soaked in blood.”

 

Will raised an eyebrow, and let out a thoughtful hum. “You could be right, Kitty,” he said, sliding his pistol back into it’s holster. He strode out from behind the barrels towards his men. “Leave her be,” He ordered. “go back to your posts, I will be questioning her tomorrow.” He tilted his head, regarding Laura. “maybe a night down here will soften her up."

 

\-------

 

Night had fallen, and all of Carmilla’s patrons had either left or gone up to their rented rooms for the night. In truth, many of her patrons had left early, spooked by Will and his men. Carmilla didn’t blame them. Whoever had given Will a title and power, no matter how small the scale was, was insane. 

 

This wasn’t the first time he’d terrorized their small town. Usually, mercifully, him and his men kept to their camp, but some nights they would come to the tavern, taking up most of the tables and drinking until some of them were crawling out the door and back to their tents and little makeshift cabins. On more than one occasion Carmilla had had to toss ice cold water on some of them who had passed out drunk on the floor. They harassed the other patrons, slinging drunken, crude remarks and starting fights. They’d broken three, now four of Carmilla's chairs. Will enforced little discipline outside camp and off the battlefield. 

 

It wasn’t very god for business, but at least the soldiers paid.

 

Most of the time.

 

The tavern had been Carmilla’s life for the past seven years. The building had been falling into disrepair when she’d first come to live in Trenton, and she’d bought it off the previous owner for a decent price. Some new paint and a few replaced floorboards, and it was good as new. It was a good size, the tavern, the kitchen, and a small office taking up the lower floor, Carmilla’s room and three rooms she rented situated on the second level. The main dining room downstairs was filled with small tables and chairs, a decent sized fireplace situated on either side of the room to keep it warm in the winter, both made of brick, dusted black and grey with layers of soot that had accumulated over the years. The walls were painted green, simply trim and chair rails adorning the walls, and the floors were a dark wood, worn smooth by years of footsteps. The bar was at the back of the room, tucked into a corner beside the stairs, was painted a warm yellow, the bar itself stained a rich brown and polished, and over one of the fireplaces hung a portrait of King George III, music to Carmilla’s dislike. 

 

Carmilla was carrying a tray of tankards back to the kitchen when Perry came downstairs, her red curls falling out of place and curling around her neck. Flour was dusted over her apron and her maroon dress from the pies she’d been making earlier. No matter how much she tried to brush the fine powder off her, it always seemed to stay. She held a rag in one hand and a bucket in the other, and quickly sidestepped around Carmilla towards the door to empty the bucket. 

 

Perry had come to work for Carmilla not long after Carmilla opened the tavern, having little interest in becoming a housewife. Perry was determined to make her own future, and her own money. Carmilla wasn’t very…receptive at first, but somewhere down the line they’d been come an odd set of friends. 

 

“Carmilla,” Perry said, looking worried as she reentered the kitchen a few minutes later, now empty bucket in hand. 

 

Carmilla looked up from where she was scrubbing the tankards, her whirring mind slowing for the first time since that morning. “What?” She answered, somewhat absently. 

 

“What happened this morning?” Perry asked, fingers fidgeting with the rag she held. “The customers looked spooked, more so than usual, and one of the chairs is broken—“

 

“Just Will’s usual shite,” Carmilla said quickly, cutting her off. “It’s fine, I handled it. You can go home for the night, it’s late, you should get some rest.”

 

Perry watched her for a moment, her blue eyes still worried, but she eventually nodded and placed the rag in the basket by the door.

 

“Goodnight, Carmilla,” She said with a small wave, and left to fetch her cloak from the office.

 

Carmilla let out a sigh and straightened up when she heard the door to the tavern close, her tired eyes closing briefly. 

 

Even without Will’s little performance it’d been a long day. Her dress, which had started out as a deep green and covered in tiny, light green flowers, now looked grey in places from the flour that was dusted over her much like it was on Perry’s dress, her apron flecked with food and a little wet in some places from the dishwater or spilled ale. One of the seams on her bodice was coming loose again. She’d have to fix it later. 

 

Carmilla scrubbed her hands and dried them off, and reached up to pull the pin from her bun, letting her dark hair fall around her shoulders before taking her apron off and heading upstairs.

 

She blew out candles as she strode down the hall, knowing the tavern even in the dark, and carefully listened for anyone who might still be awake, her steps slowing for a moment as she passed each door. 

 

She didn’t hear anything.

 

Carmilla quietly made her way back downstairs, and, careful to avoid the few creaky floorboards, made her way towards the cellar, a small lantern in hand.

 

The light was dim, but Carmilla could make out Laura’s slumped silhouette against the support post in the center of the cellar when she reached the bottom of the stairs, the air growing cold around her. Laura’s head lifted when she heard the last step creak, and she seemed to tense until Carmilla came into view, the yellow light dancing in her eyes.

 

Carmilla slowly crouched in front of Laura, fully taking in her appearance for the first time. The light was weak, but Carmilla could see the heavy bruise around Laura’s right eye, the blood caked on her forehead. She swallowed hard as her eyes came up again to meet Laura’s. 

 

Laura watched her with wary, angry eyes as Carmilla set down the lantern and reached up to untie the gag that was tied--far too tightly--around her head. 

 

“Let me go!” Laura immediately screamed, though her voice was weak and hoarse. “I’ll ki—“

 

Carmilla slapped her hand over Laura’s mouth quickly, eyes widening. “Quiet,” Carmilla hissed. She went to speak again, but yelped instead, yanking her hand back from Laura’s mouth as blood began to seep from her index finger. “You bit me,” She said in disbelief.

 

Laura shot her a tired grin, but it soon faded. “Let me go,” She growled, venom in her voice. 

 

“Listen to me,” Carmilla said, equal vehemence in her voice. “there are people upstairs who are going to wake up if you keep causing a racket. And if word gets back to Will, we’re both dead in the water. The only reason why you’re down here is because Will is my brother and I don’t have a choice. I have nothing to do with this.”

 

Laura scoffed. “Right.” She sneered. “you think you’re better than me? Miss ‘I have nothing to do with this’? What have you given up in this god damn war?” She spat. 

 

“At the moment, my god damn wine cellar,” Carmilla snapped. 

 

Carmilla stared back at Laura, noting the anger and disgust in her eyes, but she saw something else. Deeply buried, but it was there.

 

Fear. 

 

Carmilla knew Laura knew that she was likely headed for the gallows. If not tomorrow, then soon. That was the punishment for spies who were caught. Not an honorable death by firing line. 

 

Spies got the noose. 

 

Carmilla’s thoughts were interrupted as Laura spoke again. 

 

“At least I did something,” Laura growled. “At least I helped! What have you done? You could have stood up! Helped!” 

 

“Not everyone is brave enough to defy the Quartering Act,” Carmilla said coldly, whatever softness had crept into her eyes hardening again. “especially a woman without a husband and a livelihood to maintain.”  

 

“I can’t believe I ever liked you,” Laura said, faint disbelief in her voice. “I never would have taken you for a Loyalist,"

 

Carmilla felt a pang in her gut and just sighed quietly before getting to her feet. 

 

Laura had alway been stubborn. She would never accept the extra shilling Carmilla would try to give her for nearly always delivering the bread while it was still hot. Ever. 

 

her steps faltered a moment later though, when a last word was spat at her.

 

“Traitor."

 

//

 

Friday, December 13th

 

Carmilla shivered as she stoked the fire in the main room of the tavern, piling kindling over the embers after stuffing some crumpled paper under the grate.

 

Once the flames began to take, consuming the kindling, she placed a few dry logs on top, and then hurried to the kitchen.

 

She didn’t have much time before Perry would arrive to help prepare breakfast before the tavern opened, and she really didn’t want to answer any of Perry’s frantic questions at the moment. Perry was already suspicious and finding out about Laura couldn’t lead to anything good. 

 

Carmilla quickly ripped off a hunk of day-old bread and filled a tankard with water, and headed towards the cellar again.

 

The cold hit her like a wall as she descended the steps, and her breath suddenly rose in front of her. Across the room she could hear Laura’s shuddering breath, chattering teeth, and Carmilla felt that pang in her stomach again as she stepped closer to Laura. 

 

Laura looked up at her a the warm light from the lantern washed over her. Her black eye was even more swollen, her eyes nearly forced shut, and her cuts ad scrapes had scabbed over. Her lip was swollen and looking painful, but the glare she gave Carmilla was rather weak compared to the night before. 

 

Carmilla unwrapped the bread from the napkin and tore off a chunk, holding out to Laura.

 

Laura eyed the bread suspiciously, and after a moment, her eyes jumped back to Carmilla. 

 

“How do I know you didn’t poison that?” Laura asked suspiciously, her voice hoarse. it held less venom than the night before, though.

 

Carmilla sighed and rolled her eyes, and stuck the piece of bread she was holding out into her mouth. “Cupcake, if I wanted you dead, yo’d be dead by now,” She said, and then swallowed. 

 

“Fine,” Laura said, though her voice was softer. 

 

Carmilla held out another piece of bread, noting the hunger in Laura’s eyes. “I brought water too,” She said. 

 

Carmilla steadily fed Laura pieces of bread and sips of water, trying to appease Laura’s ravenous hunger and also make sure Laura wouldn’t make herself choke. A hint of a smile pulled at her lips at seeing Laura a little more lively, but she quickly hid it.

 

“I’ll be back later,” Carmilla said, stuffing the cloth napkin into her apron as she got to her feet, lantern in hand.

 

“Why are you helping me?” Laura asked, looking up at Carmilla. 

 

Carmilla paused for a moment, and opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped suddenly, eyes flicking to the door to the cellar when she heard muffled pounding upstairs. She glanced back at Laura, and then hurried up the stairs, gently shutting the door to the cellar without a word. 

 

When Carmilla got to the door, she glanced through the small window to find a very cold and very irritable looking Perry on the other side.  

 

“Carmilla it is ungodly cold out there,” Perry huffed as she hurried through the door to the tavern and pushed her hood back. Her hair was neatly tied up in a bun, a few red curls framing her face, and her dress was spotless as usual. Perry never had a hair out of place unless she was working. “Where were you? I knocked on the door for ages,”

 

“I was taking inventory in the cellar,” Carmilla lied, “we’re going to need more rum soon,” 

 

Perry nodded, and hung her cloak by the door. “Shall I get the porridge from the fire or have you already gotten it?”

 

“It’s still on the fire,” Carmilla said, nodding towards the kitchen. “I’ll prepare the pound cakes.”

 

\-------

 

The morning seemed to crawl by as Carmilla went about her work, cooking and tending to patrons and boarders, but in an instant it seemed to have flown by when Will walked through the door, the jovial chatter of the dining room falling to hushed murmurs in his wake.

 

There had been fewer patrons in the tavern that morning than usual, though it was to be expected. Those who had the displeasure of witnessing Will’s wrath usually made a habit of avoiding him afterwards. She was amazed that all her boarder were still in residence and hadn’t immediately cleared out.

 

“Carmilla," He barked, sitting down at a small table by the bar. “cider, and whatever you’re cooking there.” He placed his pistol down on the table in front of him and reclined in his chair, removing his hat. 

 

Carmilla gritted her teeth as she poured out a cup of apple cider and set it down at his table before going back for the porridge and black bread.

 

“What’s this?” He asked, wrinkling his nose when Carmilla set down the pewter bowl full of steaming porridge in front of him.

 

“Breakfast,” Perry said curtly as she bustled by them with a few empty plates, cutting Carmilla off, much to Carmilla’s surprise. “the stews aren’t finished cooking yet.”

 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow at Perry’s retreating back, and smirked as she walked back to the kitchen, her ear catching the end of a frustrated growl from Will.

 

“What was that, Red?” Carmilla said with a chuckle as she went over to the fire to stir the stew that was bubbling away. 

 

Well,” Perry said, her voice suddenly giving away anxiety as she pressed the rolling pin into the pie crust a little harder than she needed to. “he can’t just be rude to everyone, he’s not the king,” She bustled about the kitchen after a moment, gathering the rest of the ingredients she needed. Carmilla could see the tremor in her hands, hear it in her voice, but Perry had always been a deceptively steadfast woman. Perpetually nervous, but stood her ground when it mattered. 

 

Carmilla huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at her odd friend. “No, he’s not.”

 

\-------

 

Carmilla’s stomach sank as the clack of Will’s polished boots drew nearer to the cellar door nearly an hour later, and she watched, her insides turning to ice, as he descended the stairs, the timber door closing heavily behind him. 

 

A hush suddenly fell across the dining room of the tavern as a muffled, pained cry sounded from the cellar.

 

Carmilla’s grip tightened on the poker she held.  

 

The patrons in the tavern looked around at each other nervously, the only sound breaking the silence for a few moments being the odd clack of cutlery, either from someone setting to down, or dropping it in surprise. 

 

Several patrons, upon hearing another cry, and a deeper, demanding yell, threw a few coins on the table and hurried out into the street, not wanting to be around for when Will came upstairs again.

 

A few other patrons only lasted a few more minutes before clearing out as well.

 

Perry gripped Carmilla’s forearm, shaking Carmilla from her shock. 

 

"Carmilla, what happened last night?” Perry asked, eyes wide in alarm. “That isn’t nothing, who’s down there?!"

 

Carmilla shook her head slightly. “Will’s men caught a spy,” She said, coming back to herself, though her fingers tightened into a fist as she heard another dull thud and a choked yelp. “Sherman Hollis’ daughter, Laura.”

 

"Laura?” Perry asked, eyes horrified as a hand came up to cover her mouth.

 

Laura and Perry had grown up together in Trenton, seeing as they lived near each other, and had remained good friends as they’d grown up. Perry had even worked at The Hollis bakery when she was a teenager.

 

Carmilla nodded, still feeling numb, but she shoved it back. “Go home, I can take care of the tavern,”

 

What?” Perry asked, surprised, “no, you need help, and you shouldn’t be alone here.” She said matter of factly. 

 

“Perry, there’s no one here,” Carmilla said, taking the rolling pin from Perry’s hands. “If Laura remains as stubborn as she has been, she’s not going to give anything up and Will will be in a right temper when he’s done. I don’t want you around for that. Go home,”

 

“Carmilla—“

 

“Go home.” Carmilla said again, and her eyes left no room for argument. She reached into a pouch tied to the string of her apron, and shoved a few extra shillings into Perry’s hand.

 

Carmilla, I can’t take that—“ Perry said, protesting, but Carmilla pushed Perry’s closed hand back to her.

 

“Take it,” Carmilla insisted. She gave Perry a smirk, though it was a little halfhearted. “for quipping at Will.” 

 

Perry’s eyes were conflicted, but she sighed and quickly hugged Carmilla - a rather strange occurrence - and hurried out of the kitchen towards Carmilla’s office to retrieve her cloak. 

 

Carmilla let out a breath and leaned against the table across from the fire, hands shaking slightly, before she steeled herself and continued cooking. She had two pies to finish and a chicken waiting to be prepared for supper. She had boarders who were expecting a good meal later that night. 

 

\-------

 

A few patrons wandered in over the next hour or two, though none of them stayed long. Many of them opted to buy their goods and take it home rather than stay for a meal, and the few boarders the were roomed upstairs only came down for quick dinners before scurrying up back to their rooms. Nobody wanted to be around when Will came back upstairs. 

 

Carmilla was scrubbing a few pots when Will stormed back upstairs, muttering darkly to himself, and left the tavern, slamming the door behind him, the glass in the windows flanking the door shuddering in their frames from the impact. 

 

Carmilla held out as long as she could, but it was nearing five in the evening, the sky outside long dark when she eventually she flipped the latch on the front door, declaring the tavern closed for the night - t’s not like she was getting any business anyway - and hurried through her last tasks.

 

Once things were in order, she stood quietly in the doorway to the kitchen, listening carefully for the sound of anyone coming down the stairs. When she was met with silence, she hurried about the kitchen, gathering clean cloths and warm water from the kettle. 

 

She glanced behind herself, feeling uncharacteristically nervous as she slipped through the door to the cellar. 

 

When the warm light of the lantern washed over Laura’s slumped form, Carmilla nearly dropped the it.

 

“Laura?” Camilla croaked as she knelt down, almost afraid to speak too loudly.

 

Laura was still tied to the support post, her face bruised worse than it had been before, her right eye fully swollen shut now, the gash on her forehead reopened and slowly bleeding. A hand-shaped bruise was blooming on her neck, and she was shivering, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut only open a crack. 

 

Carmilla watched as Laura’s tired eye found her and watched her silently, and she gently cupped Laura’s cheek, Laura’s breath hitched in discomfort and her shivering grew worse.

 

Carmilla silently dipped a clean cloth into the warm water and gently began dabbing at her cuts, carefully holding Laura’s face, supporting her as she cleaned the dirt from from her face and neck, careful of the bruises on Laura’s chest. 

 

They watched each other in silence, and Carmilla saw something shift in Laura’s eyes. The fire hadn’t gone out, not in the slightest, but her eyes were…softer. Her honey eyes, or rather just the one, tired but shining in the dim lantern light watched Carmilla, and Carmilla felt a tug in her chest, but stopped herself from caressing Laura’s bruised jaw with her thumb as she held the damp cloth to Laura’s split lip. 

 

She wanted more than anything to bring Laura upstairs.

 

Her insides ached to bring Laura upstairs into the warmth.

 

But that would more than likely incur Will’s wrath tenfold, and that could mean…terrible, terrible things for Laura. 

 

Carmilla forced her hand to fall to her lap, and she glanced up at one of the shelves where he kept bottles of whiskey. She bit her lip and stood, quickly grabbing one, and pulled the cork from it. She knelt in front of Laura again, and carefully tipped Laura’s chin up.

 

“Here,” Carmilla murmured, breaking the long silence, “For the pain,”

 

Laura swallowed, her eyebrow quirking up slightly. “S’expensive?” She croaked, her voice scratchy and crackled.

 

Carmilla let out a humorless huff of a laugh. “I don’t care,” She wiped a drop of whiskey from Laura’s lip with the cloth. “drink a little more.” 

 

Laura slowly took another gulp, and Carmilla corked the bottle again, and thought for a moment before she set the bottle down and hurried up the stairs.

 

Carmila returned a few minutes later, arms laden with spare blankets. Will would be furious, but it was becoming bitterly cold and she couldn’t bring herself to leave Laura down there with nothing. 

 

She could barely leave her down there at all.

 

Carmilla wordlessly wrapped the blankets around Laura as best she could, tucking the quilts around her as she tried to ignore Laura’s exhausted eyes as they watched her silently. 

 

When Carmilla was finished, she paused, not wanting to go upstairs, but she forced herself to.   

 

\-------

 

Early morning, Saturday, Dec. 14th

 

Carmilla hardly lasted an hour before her will snapped.

 

It had begun to snow, the bitter cold growing worse, wind whistling and rattling the windows. The snow was thick and heavy, and Carmilla could feel the chill coming off the windows of her room. The fire kept it at bay, but the wind was hard to ignore, it’s hissing a constant reminder of Laura, below her in the cold. 

 

Carmilla had changed into her night clothes, tended to the fire, and was currently pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. Carmilla’s cat sat on her bed, green eyes watching her intently, tail twitching back and forth. 

 

Carmilla’s room was a decent size, situated in the corner of the building above the kitchen. The walls were left white, and her bed, a simple four poster draped in deep green fabric sat facing the fireplace, the mattress covered in a colorful patchwork quilt that Perry had made for her for her birthday several years ago. Carmilla’s desk, which had been left by the previous owner, sat in front of one of the windows, and was covered in little flecked ink stains papers and notes poking out from it’s many compartments, and two wooden chairs flanked the fireplace. A single bookshelf laden with books of all sizes sat next to the bed, and between the bookshelf and the bed itself was a small nightstand, a candle sitting at the corner of the small table. 

 

Above all of this, tacked to the rough hewn beams that ran along the ceiling, were dried orange slices covered in cloves that Carmilla had hung in an attempt to dispel the musty smell that tended to gather in the rooms upstairs when she was forced to keep the windows and doors shut tight for months on end due to the cold.

 

Carmilla looked back towards her cat, and let out a frustrated groan before hurrying towards the door to her room, taking a lit candle from the sconce on the wall and a small knife from her desk, and quietly slipping out into the hall.

 

Carmilla padded silently down the hall, feeling her way along the walls, skipping the floorboards that creaked the loudest. Her feet scuffed softly along the worn wooden stairs, and she pulled the cellar door open.

 

“Laura?” She called softly as her feet hit the cold, packed dirt floor of the cellar. She hurried forward, the weak light of the candle illuminating Laura’s still face. 

 

“Oh god, Laura,” Carmilla breathed, eyes horrified, her hand coming up to cradle Laura’s cheek.

 

Laura was cold to the touch, her good eye barely open. She wasn’t shivering and her lips looked unsettlingly pale. Nearly blue. 

 

Carmilla felt her heart in her throat and she shook Laura gently. “Laura,” She said a little louder, “Laura, look at me,”

 

Laura’s eye slowly found Carmilla’s, but she looked confused, and her eye slipped closed again. 

 

Carmilla felt the knot in her stomach lurch, and she shook herself from her horrified trance and scrambled around Laura, pulling out the small knife. She sawed frantically at Laura’s bindings, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the sight of Laura’s raw, scabbed wrists. she carefully peeled away the rope and pushed the blankets from around Laura.

 

“Come on,” Carmilla murmured, wrapping an arm around Laura’s back and one around her knees. “come on Laura,”

 

Carmilla got to her feet and slowly ascended the stairs, Laura bundled against her chest. She was careful not to knock Laura’s feet against the doorframe or the wall as she made her way back up to her room as quickly as she could. She peered carefully around the corner when she reached the top of the stairs, and when she saw the way was clear, she hurried into her room, softly nudging the door closed behind her.

 

“Laura, Laura,” Carmilla murmured, trying to keep Laura’s attention as she gently set Laura in the chair by the fire. “Laura look at me,” She said again, leaning down and taking her face between her hands.

 

Laura took a shuddering breath and looked up at Carmilla, but stayed silent, her eyes still cloudy and confused. 

 

Carmilla sighed in relief, though she knew Laura wasn’t out of the woods yet. She soon set about getting Laura out of her ruined and dirtied dress and into one of her own spare nightgowns, and gently bundled her under the covers. Her little black cat stomped up Carmilla’s bed and sniffed at Laura before curling up beside her, and Carmilla cracked a small smile. 

 

An hour passed, and Carmilla had stoked up the fire until it was roaring, and piled more blankets on Laura. She'd stayed beside Laura, rubbing Laura’s bruised hands between her own, gently moving Laura’s fingers to get the blood flowing again and to warm them up. She watched Laura’s face carefully, but Laura had remained quiet. 

 

An odd state for her. 

 

Carmilla was just beginning to doze off against the post of her bed, adrenaline finally leaving her system, when she heard Laura cough. 

 

Carmilla’s eyes flow open, and she gripped Laura’s hand a little tighter.

 

“Laura?” She breathed, watching her intently. 

 

Laura’s good eye found Carmilla’s, and Laura let out an exhausted sigh. 

 

“Hey...” Laura mumbled, blinking slowly. 

 

A small, breathless smile tugged at the corner of Carmilla’s mouth. “Hey,” She said softly. 

 

“What happened?” Laura murmured, looking around the room confusedly. She looked back to Carmilla.

 

“I, ah….I went to check on you.” Carmilla said quietly, averting her gaze. “It got too cold…you were so cold.” She shook her head a little. “I though you would be safer there, that bringing you to my room would make Will even angrier - and it will - but it started to snow so I went to check on you and you were freezing,” Carmilla swallowed thickly, her thumb still absently stroking Laura’s hand. 

 

“You should have left me there,” Laura murmured, shifting slightly under the covers. She let out a wince as her movement tugged on a stiff muscle. “but I’m glad you didn’t,” She managed a weak smile as she looked up at Carmilla, and once again Carmilla was baffled by Laura’s existence. 

 

Carmilla was silent for a moment, unsure what to say. “Are you hungry?” She finally asked, seeming to come back to herself.

 

Laura nodded, but winced again as the motion caused her eye to throb painfully. 

 

“I’ll be back,” Carmilla said gently, her hand brushing against Laura’s shoulder briefly. 

 

Carmilla returned soon after with a cloth bundle and a tea kettle. “I can’t make anything hot, but it’s better than just bread,” She said with a slight grimace, and set the bundle down beside Laura on the bed after she hung the kettle on the trammel hook over the fire. She unwrapped the cloth to reveal a hunk of black bread, some cheese and dried fruit. 

 

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Laura said, momentarily distracted by the small black cat that was sniffing at her arm and purring softly. Laura raised a hand and gently scratched at the cat’s head.

 

Carmilla glanced up and smiled a little. “She’s not really my cat, she just hangs around. Can’t get rid of her."

 

Laura let out a halfhearted huff of a laugh that sounded like a cough more than anything. “Right,” She murmured.

 

Carmilla turned back to the fire as the water began to boil, and poured the water into a small teapot, and added the tea.

 

Laura looked at the food thoughtfully, or as thoughtfully as she could while still groggy and in pain. “Why are you helping me?” She asked for a second time, her tired eyes watching Carmilla as she moved about in front of the fire.

 

Carmilla froze for a moment, hand hovering over the top to the teapot. “I don’t want any more needlessly spilt blood,” She said quietly. Laura sighed quietly behind her, and Carmilla’s fingers shook slightly as she poured the tea into a cup and added sugar. “Here,” Carmilla said, holding the tea out for Laura. “eat slowly,” She warned, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards at Laura’s bulging cheek. 

 

As Laura ate, Carmilla laid a blanket and a pillow on the floor beside the bed, but paused when Laura caught her sleeve. Carmilla looked back at Laura, confused.

 

“Stay in the bed,” Laura said, her voice quiet, eyes drooping with sleep. She’d finished eating, and laid the now empty napkin on the nightstand. “it’s okay…floor’s too cold…”

 

Carmilla hesitated, looking at Laura curiously. 

 

“It’s okay,” Laura said again. 

 

Carmilla nodded, and cleared away the cloth and teacup before she sat on the bed beside Laura. Laura’s eyes were already closed, the cat curled up to her side, and Carmilla found herself just watching her. 

 

Laura’s breathing was steady, and Carmilla found her own finally evening out. She suddenly realized that her entire body had been wound tight, and her hands began to shake as the image of Laura, cold and unmoving, flashed through her mind.

 

She never wanted to see Laura like that again. 

 

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, sighing as memories washed over her.

 

Not a few months ago, Laura had been healthy, happy. As far as Carmilla could tell. Now she was lying broken and beaten beside her. 

 

Carmilla had always looked forward to Laura’s daily morning visits when she would deliver the bread from her father’s bakery. She would come to the back door with a large basket lined with cloth, the bread almost always still hot, steaming in the cold air.

 

There was one morning in particular that Carmilla remembered. 

 

it had been early October, the air already frigid, though the first snow had yet to come. Laura had knocked on the back door early in the morning, the sun’s rays hitting her face. When Carmilla had stepped out to receive the delivery, she had been momentarily caught off guard when Laura had smiled at her. 

 

—

 

“Morning, Carm,” Laura smiled, setting the large basket down on the bench by the door. 

 

Carmilla straightened up from where she was setting a bucket of dish water outside, and when her eyes fell on Laura, her greeting died in her throat. 

 

Laura was smiling happily at her, her orange dress matching the changing leaves around them. She was disheveled, honey hair mussed from the wind, a smear of soot from the ovens streaked across her cheek. The sun was rising at Carmilla’s back, and the golden light washed over Laura’s face, causing her to squint her eyes and duck her head. 

 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Carmilla smirked, finally getting her wits about her. “Come in, I have your payment,” 

 

Carmilla took the basket from the bench and led the way inside to the kitchen. Laura followed close behind, and stood in the doorway to the kitchen as she waited for Carmilla. 

 

“Oh, hello Laura,” Perry said cheerfully, looking up from the apples she was peeling. 

 

“Morning Perry!” Laura said happily with a wave. 

 

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Perry asked, pushing the apple peels that littered the table into a basket to take outside later. 

 

“Not yet, we got a late start on the bread this morning,” Laura said with a slight yawn. “I’ll eat when I get home,”

 

"Nonsense, you must be starving,” Perry tutted, and handed Laura an apple hand pie wrapped in thick paper. 

 

Laura let out a small laugh as she took it. “Thanks, Perry,”

 

Carmilla shook her head slightly. Perry, such a mother hen.

 

“Here,” Carmilla said, gesturing for Laura to follow her back out into the hall, a small coin purse held in her hand. Carmilla handed it to Laura, and slipped an extra shilling into Laura’s palm. 

 

“I told you to stop trying that,” Laura said, her nose scrunching up in frustration as she tried to push the coin back into Carmilla’s hand. 

 

“Keep it,” Carmilla insisted. “you provided me a service, I provide you with payment,” She smirked. 

 

“You’ve already paid me,” Laura said, face determined but eyes playful. 

 

“Well,” Carmilla said thoughtfully. “keep the shilling for now, and come back later and spend it on a cider.” She reached forward and brushed some of Laura’s hair back, letting the strands slip between her fingers. 

 

Carmilla watched amusedly as Laura desperately tried to hold back a grin, but couldn’t stop the corner of her mouth from twitching. She was surprised suddenly as Laura darted forward and kissed her cheek.

 

“We’ll see,” Laura grinned, and left out the back door.

 

—

 

Carmilla smiled slightly at the memory, her hand reaching out to touch Laura’s hair once again. She brushed a few strands from Laura’s eyes and sighed. 

 

So much had changed. 

 

She was feeling rather conflicted about one change in particular. 

 

Carmilla shook her head a little, and slipped down under the covers after she blew out the candle on her nightstand. Her hand lingered briefly on Laura’s shoulder before she withdrew it, and closed her eyes to go to sleep.

 

\-------

 

Carmilla woke to early morning rays of light shining in through the gap in the thick curtains of her bedroom window. 

 

She blinked a few times and looked about, shivering slightly seeing as the fire had died down in the night, but she smiled a little when her eyes fell on Laura, who was still sound asleep, the cat now curled up next to her head and purring loudly. 

 

Carmilla carefully slipped out from under the covers and moved about the room, quietly getting dressed for the day and stoking up the fire again before she made her way downstairs to start preparing breakfast. 

 

Just as Carmilla was taking the porridge off the fire, she heard a knock at the front door.

 

Her blood ran cold. 

 

Carmilla paused for a moment, eyes falling to a small knife on the counter, and she took it, moving slowly towards the door. As she walked, she slid part of the handle to the knife up her sleeve. She quickly opened the door, and all the air rushed out of her when she realized the person at the door was just Perry. 

 

“Oh, Red,” Carmilla said, heartbeat thundering in her ears. “it’s you,”

 

“Of course its me, I’m here every morning,” Perry said confusedly, bustling into the tavern past Carmilla. She looked back to Carmilla, eyes concerned. “You’re nervous.” She said, it wasn’t a question. 

 

“It’s nothing,” Carmilla said, shaking her head and moving back towards the kitchen, but Perry caught her arm. 

 

“You’re worried about Will, aren’t you?” Perry said, her eyes sharp but not accusing. “You’re holding a knife,”

 

Carmilla glanced down at her hand and sighed, letting the knife slip out of her sleeve and into her hand. “It got too cold last night,” Carmilla said, running a hand through her still-loose hair. “Laura was nearly freezing to death. I brought her up to my room, and when Will finds out, he’s going to be furious,” 

 

Perry’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she stared past Carmilla for a moment. “Well,” She said, her voice a little higher than usual, “we just need to keep him away as best we can,” She said, nodding her head resolutely.

 

Carmilla rolled her eyes and followed Perry into the kitchen. “And how do you suppose we do that?” She hissed, “By law he has a right to be here,”

 

“Then we distract him, get him drunk and stupid,” Perry said, shrugging her cloak off and heading towards the fire to stoke it up again. 

 

Carmilla shook her head disbelievingly. “You’re something else,” She muttered, and filled a small bowl with porridge and added a liberal amount of honey. “I’ll be back in a little while.” And with that, She left the kitchen and headed back to her room.

 

Carmilla slowly opened the door to her bedroom to find Laura still fast asleep against the pillows. Carmila set the bowl on her bedside table, and sat carefully at the edge of the bed. 

 

“Cupcake,” Carmilla said quietly, laying a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Laura,”

 

Laura groaned quietly under her breath, and her eyes fluttered open a moment later. She looked about, panicked for a moment, seeming to forget where she was.  

 

“Laura, Laura,” Carmilla said gently, “hey,” 

 

Laura’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut still found Carmilla, and she settled down again. “Carm…?” She mumbled. 

 

The nickname caused Carmilla’s stomach to lurch strangely. “Hey,” She said again, voice a little croaky. “I brought breakfast,” 

 

Laura managed a small smile and sat up a little. “Thanks,” She murmured, and took the bowl, sighing as the heat from the pewter bowl warmed her hands. 

 

I have to go back downstairs, but I’m going to keep the door locked,” Carmilla said as Laura ate. “I always do so it won’t be out of place. Just…stay here and stay quiet,” She said  gently. “We’ll try to keep Will away,”

 

Laura gave Camilla a small smile and nodded. “Thank you,” She said quietly. 

 

Carmilla nodded a little. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” She said, and took the bowl that Laura held out, and paused for a moment before touching Laura’s knee briefly, and then quietly left the room.

 

\-------

 

“I have to visit the butcher, I’ll be back soon,” Carmilla said to Perry as she pulled her black cloak on, tugging it tightly around her shoulders.

 

“Don’t be long Carmilla, it’s cold out,”

 

I’ll be fine, Red,” Carmilla called as she made her way towards the the door and out onto the street.

 

people were hurrying about the town square, eager to get to their business and to get back home to their warm hearths and out of the snow. Only the British regulars who stood at their stations were the ones who stood still, or huddled around small fires. 

 

The snow had continued from the night before, but it was a light flurry now, though the snow had accumulated quite a lot. Carmilla trudged through the calf-high snow, her skirts tripping her up a little as she made her way up the street to the butcher. The sky overhead was overcast, promising more snow, and Carmilla held her cloak tightly as she walked on. The air was thick with the scent of wood smoke, and Carmilla allowed herself a moment of calm as she walked along, the cold doing more to wake her up than her tea had that morning. 

 

The butcher shop had been empty, no doubt due to such frigid weather, so Carmilla finished her business and soon left with a few hefty packages wrapped in thick brown paper. As she turned the corner though, a hand reached out of the alley she was passing, and snagged her cloak, dragging her into the alley roughly. 

 

Carmilla let out a surprised yelp, nearly dropping her packages, and that yelp turned into a snarl as Carmilla fought against her attacker. 

 

“Get off,” Carmilla growled, pushing hard against their chest, but suddenly a gloved hand was slapped over her mouth. 

 

“Quiet,” A woman’s voice hissed, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I just need to talk to you,” 

 

Carmilla wrenched her face way from the woman’s hand, and whipped her hood off so she could get a good look at her. 

 

In front of her stood a tall woman, maybe a half a foot taller than Carmilla herself. She was dressed in plain clothes, breeches and boots, a thick grey wool coat, a blue scarf pulled up to cover her mouth and nose, partially hiding dark skin. Her dark brown eyes watched Carmilla intently, but they weren’t threatening, just curious and…imploring. A black tricorn hat was perched on her head, her dark curly hair tied back and dusted with snow.

 

“Who are you, what do you want?” Carmilla hissed, eyes darting towards the main street. 

 

“I'm Mel,” The woman said, tugging her scarf down. “I know Laura, I know she’s being held in your tavern,”

 

Carmilla’s eyes snapped back to Mel, the tight knot in her stomach loosening slightly. “How do you know Laura?” She asked warily. 

 

“She’s my friend,” Mel explained, and then huffed a little. “she’s a blockheaded little spitfire, but she’s my friend,”

 

“You’re in the rebel army,” Carmila said, realization dawning on her. “you’re her contact,”

 

“Yes and no,” Mel said. “I’m not her contact but I’m aware of the situation. And yes, I’m in the army. Her contact sent me.”

 

“Why didn’t you come to her aid?” Carmilla demanded.

 

Mel looked at her, her eyes narrowing and becoming annoyed. “What do you think I’m here for?” She snapped. “Is she safe?”

 

Carmilla glared back, but then her face softened as she though of Laura, laid up in her bed. “For the moment,” She said. “She’s hurt, badly, but she’s safe for the moment. She’s in my room,”

 

“Your room?” Mel questioned. 

 

“My brother was holding her in my cellar, but the cold was too much,” Carmilla said, “I brought her upstairs to warm her up,”

 

“Your brother?” Mel asked, her voice raising slightly. 

 

“Look,” Carmilla hissed. “my brother is a bastard, and by law he has access to my tavern because he’s a Hessian captain,” She took a breath. “I didn’t want any part of this, I never wanted Laura to get hurt. We’re trying to keep Will away from her," 

 

Me watched Carmilla curiously for a moment. “Having someone on the inside would help immensely,” She said, voice calm once again. 

 

“I want to get her out,” Carmilla said, her voice losing its edge. Mel watched her eyes soften, and saw a hint of something - desperation, maybe - in her eyes.

 

“Is there somewhere we can talk, later?” Me asked. 

 

Carmilla thought for a moment, and nodded. “I’ll close the tavern early tonight,” She said. “come to the back door at nine o’clock. I’ll hang a lantern at the back door if it’s safe,”

 

Mel thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ll be there,” She said, and let go of Carmilla’s shoulder, gave her a nod, and strolled out of the alley like nothing had happened. 

 

\-------

 

Carmilla let out a growl under her breath as she heard the front door to her tavern slam open for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last few days, and her heart rose in her throat, until she heard a voice that was vert distinctly not Will. 

 

This voice was deeper, and accompanied by a third click in addition to footsteps. 

 

“Where is she?!” The voice bellowed, “Where’s my daughter?!”

 

Carmilla’s eyes widened and she hastily put the pie down she’d been preparing to bring out, and darted out of the kitchen. 

 

Before her stood Sherman Hollis, white wig askew as well as his hat, dusted in snow. His clothes were streaked with flour but he’d made an effort to put on his nice coat over his work clothes. his cane was in his hand, shoes caked in snow, and his face was red and angry. 

 

“Mr. Hollis!” Carmilla called loudly, rushing towards him.

 

“Where is Laura!?” he asked angrily, but was quickly cut off by Carmilla.

 

“I have that bottle of whiskey you ordered sir, come back here,” Carmilla continued loudly, as she grasped his forearm and dragged him back towards her office. 

 

Mr. Hollis continued to yell angrily, and once Carmilla had dragged him into her office, she slammed the door. 

 

“Quiet,” Carmilla growled, and when Mr. Hollis opened his mouth to argue yet again. “Laura is okay, she’s okay, but she won’t be if you keep yelling,” 

 

Mr. Hollis looked like he was going to argue again, but seemed to think better of it, and Carmilla watched his expression go from angry to desperate, devastated. 

 

“Where is she?” He asked, his voice quieter now, worried. He pulled his hat off and fixed his white wig, though a few strands were still askew. 

Carmilla pulled the pin from her hair and ran her hand through the strands, her form sagging slightly. She just wanted the day to be over. 

 

“She’s upstairs,” Carmila sighed, “she’s in my room, resting,”

 

“Resting?” Mr. Hollis asked, his worry increasing.

 

“yes, um…Will questioned her,” Carmilla said, wincing.

 

“My god,” Mr. Hollis breathed, wiping a hand down his face. “can I see her?” 

 

Carmilla shook her head. “It’d be too dangerous, Perry and I, we’re trying to keep things quiet, keep Will away,”

 

“You can't do that forever, she can’t stay here until the end of the war,” Mr. Hollis said incredulously. 

 

Carmilla shook her head. “I’ve just spoken to one of her friends, we’ll figure something out,”

 

Mr. Hollis sighed and stared off into the distance for a long moment. Just like with Laura, Carmilla could see the gears tuning in his head before he looked down, shoulders slumped. He seemed to pick himself up after a moment, and cleared his throat. 

 

“Well,” He said, “If you need anything, any help, call on me. And…please, tell her I came by?” 

 

Carmilla nodded. “Of course. I…thank you,” Carmilla gave him a weak smile, her exhaustion showing through. She glanced down at a case of whiskey that was sitting in her office that she’d intended to stock the bar with. “here,” She took one of the bottles and handed it to Mr. Hollis.  

 

He looked down at the bottle and gave a halfhearted chuckle. Mr. Hollis nodded to her, and made to leave the room, but he paused for a moment. 

 

“You care about her, don’t you?” He asked, and the look in his eyes alluded to a deeper meaning. 

 

Carmilla swallowed, and paused for a moment. “I do,” 

 

\-------

 

Carmilla paused as she was scrubbing out a tankard when she heard a soft knock at the back door. Drying her hands on her apron along the way, she strode over and opened the door a crack. 

 

"Evening," said Mel quietly. 

 

"Evening," Carmilla nodded, and opened the door wide to let Mel in.

 

"Is anyone else here?" Mel asked, eyes darting around the short hallway. 

 

"Just the tenants upstairs," Carmilla said, latching the door behind them. "We can talk in my office."

 

Mel nodded. "If you have any food leftover from supper, I wouldn't say no. I have a few shillings on me."

 

"I can scrape something together," Carmilla nodded, and took the few shillings Mel held out.

 

Soon, the two of them were seated in carmilla's small office, a few candles between them for light. In front of Mel sat a plate of cheese and leftover bread with some cured meats and a mug of tea that Mel happily dug into. 

 

Carmilla sat at her desk, hands wrapped around a teacup for warmth. 

 

"So, do you have any ideas?" Carmilla prodded as she watched Mel eat. 

 

Mel sighed and sat back in her chair, wiping her lips with a napkin. "I have some people on my end that could help with the ride back to camp, but it's getting her out of here without getting everyone killed that's the problem."

 

"Obviously." Carmilla said, slightly agitated. "It's a wonder my brother hasn't killed her already. I've been stroking his ego within an inch of my life to get him to back off, but once he finds out that she's no longer in the cellar..." Carmilla shook her head. "Fortune has favored us today in that he hasn't come by, but I fear that luck is expended." 

 

Mel nodded, and thought for a moment. "What if she were to be considered a prisoner of war?" She said, as she ripped another piece of bread off. 

 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow as she thought for a moment. “That…might not be a terrible idea,” She said, and took a sip of tea.

 

“it would get the torture to stop,” Mel said, and took another bite of cheese. “that would let her heal up some before we get her out of here. It would make the ride easier.”

 

“That means continuing to coddle William,” Carmilla said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. “I might actually be sick."

 

“You’ll survive,” Mel said mater-of-factly as she gave Carmilla an impatient look. She groaned a moment later and ran a hand down her face as she took her tricorn hat off. “It’s a load of shite that I can’t directly talk to Laura,”

 

“Believe me, I know,” Carmilla deadpanned, and stole one of the cured sausages off of Mel’s plate. “you do know that this all depends on if Laura agrees, right?” Carmilla said, her eyes becoming serious again. “I can’t control her, and nor would I ever want to. This is her decision, and if she has an alternative idea, I may go with her’s.”

 

Mel let out an amused chuckle. “Nobody can control that girl,” 

 

A small smile quirked Carmilla’s lips. “No,” She agreed.

 

“What’s your stake in all of this?” Mel suddenly asked, giving Carmilla a curious look. Carmilla raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. “You must have some reason for doing this,” 

 

“I don’t want to see my brother kill another innocent person, especially in my tavern,” Carmilla said with a shrug. “large blood stains in my wince cellar would be bad for business.”

 

“So, purely selfish, hm?” Mel asked, her eyebrow still raised, eyes boring into Carmilla’s.

 

“Of course,” Carmilla nodded. 

 

Right,” Mel said sarcastically. “well, see if you can get her to agree to this, and I’ll talk to my people about actually getting her out of here. Buy us some time.” She stood and put her hat back on, tugging her scarf up around her neck. “hang a black petticoat from your clothesline when you’re ready to talk, I’ll have someone keep an eye out for it,”

 

“I will,” Carmilla sad, and got up as well to follow Mel to the door. 

 

Mel opened the door quietly and turned to Carmilla. "You really are a terrible liar. See that your brother doesn’t find the out.” She said with a smirk, and then disappeared into the night, her footsteps lightly crunching in the snow. 

 

\-------

 

“Why didn’t you tell me Mel was here, I could have left now!” Laura said, frustration evident in her eyes as she nearly spilled her tea on the blankets.

 

“Cupcake,” Carmilla said, finding Laura's enthusiasm endearing but also frustrating. “You can hardly walk right now, you’re still recovering. It would be a disaster if you tried to ride right now. And you’re the crowning jewel of Will’s military career, if you disappeared tonight he would be on the warpath,”

 

Laura deflated somewhat, sighing as she stared into her teacup. “I know,” She murmured. “I’m just tired of being useless.”

 

“Hey,” Carmilla said, trying to catch Laura’s eye. “you are doing something. you’re staying alive, and you are much more valuable, useful, to the rebels alive than dead.”

 

“I won’t be alive long once Will finds me up here instead fin the cellar,” Laura said, though Carmilla noticed how Laura’s shoulders lifted slightly. 

 

“Mel and I...actually had some thoughts about that.” Carmilla said, setting her teacup down on the nightstand. “It’s your decision, ultimately, but you could become a prisoner of war,”

 

Laura bit her lip, and Carmilla could see the gears turning in her head. Laura knew what this meant, having spent so much time around Danny, and she’d heard mention of it in the Hessian camp by the soldiers who would occasionally speak in English. It meant an end to the torture, base rights. She could lay low and recover. 

 

“I’ll do it,” Laura said slowly with a nod. “Will and I will have to make a deal though, we tell him that I’ll give up the information he wants, but only to his superior officer,”

 

Carmilla’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s…brilliant,” She said. “He’ll have to write to Major Straka, and with Christmas so close, the entire exchange could take weeks,”

 

Laura brightened up, a grin pulling at her lips, and Carmilla saw the spark of life shine in Laura’s eyes again. “That’s more than enough time to devise a plan!” She said excitedly.

 

Carmilla smiled a little. “You’re amazing,” She said quietly, though she suddenly realized that she’d said it out loud when Laura looked at her curiously. Carmilla reached for her teacup again and took a sip, gripping the handle a little too tightly. Her little black cat watched her intently from the bed. “your father stopped by this morning,” She said quickly, changing the subject.

 

Laura brightened up even more, though her eyes held some sadness. “He did?” She asked. “I thought I heard him yelling earlier…”

 

Carmilla chuckled. “He came storming in, demanding to know where you were,” Her eyes grew somber after a moment. “I’m sorry I couldn’t allow him up here,” She said, her hand reaching out to rest on Laura’s knee. “If Will found out—"

 

“It’s okay,” Laura said with a sad smile. “I know. It would ruin everything,”

 

Carmilla sighed quietly. “I’m sure you’ll see him again soon,”

 

Laura nodded. “I hope so,”

 

Soon, the two of them finished their tea and began preparing for bed. Carmilla helped Laura to her feet after she heated some water for them both to wash up with, and stepped out of the room while Laura washed up and got changed, and then did the same herself. 

 

Laura was already asleep by the time Carmilla crawled into bed, and with her stomach in not quite as tight a knot, Carmilla eventually drifted off to sleep. 

 

//

 

Sunday, Dec. 15th 

 

“Where is she?!” Will snarled, storming down the hall towards the bar. 

 

Several patrons seated nearby looked over nervously as Carmilla quickly set down the pitcher she was holding, and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down the hall again. 

 

“I swear to god William—"

 

“Where is she?!” He snarled again, “did you let her go? I will have you hanged for treason—“

 

“Quiet,” Carmilla hissed. “I didn’t let her go, I brought her upstairs because when I went to bring her water, she was nearly blue from the cold,” She pushed a stray lock of hair back. “she’s in my room,”

 

“You had no right, she is my prisoner—“

 

“Did you want a dead prisoner?” Carmilla asked, raising an eyebrow, “because that’s what you would have gotten if I’d left her down there all night. A dead prisoner has no information, isn’t useful. You would be responsible for a dead civilian under your care, and I don’t think Major Straka would think very highly of you once he found out.”

 

Will looked at Carmilla, eyes furious and nostrils flared, but he was finally quiet. 

 

“I’m looking out for you,” Carmilla said, crossing her arms. “she’s prepared to strike a deal with you. If you resolve this without bloodshed, you will be hailed as a bringer of peace back home, you will be rewarded.” 

 

Will let out a slow sigh, his shoulders squaring again. Carmilla watched the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He’d always been a suck up. 

 

“Fine,” He said stiffly. “I’ll talk this deal with her,”

 

“Fine,” Carmilla said, her voice clipped. She led him towards the stairs and up to her room, fingers jittery along the railing. 

 

Carmilla was quiet as her and Will entered the room, her eyes falling on Laura, watching her carefully. 

 

Laura watched Will quietly, a familiar fire in her eyes that Carmilla had seen directed at herself the first few times she’d gone down to the cellar to check in on her. This was intensified though, a fire burning hot in Laura’s ches and peeking out through her honey eyes. 

 

Carmilla’s cat’s ears flattened back at the sight of Will, and hissed loudly before leaping off the bed and skittering under it, growling low in her throat. 

 

“My sister says you have a deal to propose,” Will said stiffly, his hat cradled in the crook of his arm. Dark spots from the melted snow dotted the shoulders of his red and green uniform, and his face was red from the cold. he watched Laura with cold eyes, his nose scrunched ever so slightly. 

 

Laura sat up in Carmilla’s bed, biting back a wince as her bruises throbbed at her movement. She watched him carefully, and it was the most serious Carmilla had seen Laura in her life. 

 

“I do,” Laura said.

 

Carmilla stood by the door, eye darting back and forth between them. Her fingers restlessly skittered along the ivory handle of the small knife that hung from her apron, hidden in the folds of her dress. 

 

“Well?” Will prompted.

 

“I’ll give up the information you want,” Laura said simply, eye never leaving Will’s. “The location of Washington’s camp, numbers. How many guns, how many soldiers. On two conditions.”

 

Carmilla watched as Will’s eyes lit up with a spark of triumph that was quickly snuffed out again. 

 

“You consider me a prisoner of war,” Laura continued on, “and I will only give this information to your superior officer,”

 

Anger flared in Will’s eyes again, and he stepped forward.

 

Carmilla’s hand closed around the hilt of the knife. 

 

“Why not just tell me? Now?” He gritted out. 

 

“You want the information, and I want to live,” Laura said. “how do I know that you won’t shoot me the second I tell you what you want?”

 

“Thi is outrageous, I am the captain of the garrison here, I am the authority here!” William yelled, his face turning redder. 

 

“William, think about it,” Carmilla said hurriedly. “Major Straka will reward you for a spy willing to give up information, and for keeping the peace here,” She put her hand on his arm. “If she becomes obstinate or unruly, you can have her shipped off to England to staid trial as a traitor and wash your hands of the affair,” 

 

Will looked back at his sister, eyes thoughtful, and then he sighed. “Fine.” He said, with great effort. “You will be considered a prisoner of war, your parole this tavern. I will be writing to Major Straka immediately.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and existed the room, slamming the door behind him. 

 

The tension in Carmilla’s shoulders finally relaxed some as she heard the click of his boots descend to the stairs, and her eyes flicked to Laura as Laura let out a loud sigh of relief and sank back into the few pillows on Carmilla’s bed. 

 

\-------

 

“I’m starving,” Laura said, lighting up when Carmilla walked into the room, a steaming bowl of stew in each hand. 

 

“I’m sure, sitting in bed all day must be exhausting,” Carmilla said, rolling her eyes dramatically as she handed Laura one of the bowls. 

 

“It is, I’m so bored,” Laura grumbled, and winced as her ribs throbbed as she reached for the bowl Carmilla held out to her. Her voice was still hoarse due to the bruises littering her neck, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it had ben the night before.

 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow as she sat down, cupping her own bowl between her hands. “Cutie,” She said disbelievingly, “you just brokered a deal for your life, how is that boring?” 

 

Laura shrugged as she scooped up a spoonful of stew. “I’m used to being…proactive,” She said. Her eyes dulled somewhat as she fell silent, poking at her food.

 

“What?” Carmilla asked after a moment, watching Laura closely. 

 

“Nothing,” Laura said, eye briefly flicking to Carmilla before darting back down to her food. 

 

“Come on, spit it out sweetheart,” Carmilla said impatiently, though her voice was somewhat playful rather than annoyed. 

 

“I just…I’m used to doing things. Even when I was helping dad out at the bakery, I was always doing something and, and, I feel useless just sitting here in bed when Mel and you are working so hard to get me out. And I still don’t understand why you’re helping me. At least when I was working at the camp I was collecting information, even if someone it was just little stuff—” Laura suddenly stopped mid rant, her face going white. “Oh no,” she breathed. 

 

Carmilla paused as she lifted her spoon. “What?” She asked, her stomach clenching into a knot once again. 

 

Laura looked at Carmilla, her face horror stricken. “Carm,” She said, eyes wide. “Carm, my codebook, my papers, they’re still in my room at my dad’s house. My dad’s house that is crawling with redcoats,” 

 

Carmilla sat back in her chair, closing her eyes as a long, heavy sigh escaped her lungs. How foolish she’d been to think they were even remotely out of the woods. 

 

“Carmilla, if they find that, or Will raids his house, everything is ruined,” Laura said desperately, “they’ll find out where Washington’s camp is, how much I know, everything,” 

 

“Sweetheart,” Carmila began as she set her bowl down, but Laura barreled on. 

 

“I was trusted with this information and if it falls into their hands it’ll be my fault, people will get killed because of me—” 

 

"Laura,” Carmilla said, laying a hand on Laura’s arm. Laura’s frightened eyes landed on Carmilla’s face, and Carmilla patiently caught her eyes. “listen, whatever happens isn’t your fault.” she said quietly, her eyes earnest. “It’s not, okay?” Laura was quiet as they looked at each other, and Carmilla sighed. “Look, your dad, he said I could call on him if we needed help. Maybe he can help us get it,”

 

“Okay,” Laura said, taking a deep breath to get herself composed again. “okay.” She looked down at her stew and began eating again before it got cold. “he can’t get it himself,” She said after a moment, “he said there’s almost always someone upstairs, and he’s been forbidden from going into their rooms by their captain," she continued with venom in her voice. 

 

“A distraction?” Carmilla said, watching as the gears began whirling in Laura’s head. “Something to draw them out of the house?”

 

“yes, but not to draw them out,” Laura said, shaking her head. “only a fight would draw them out, and that would get people hurt…”

 

The two of them were silent for a while as they ate, both mentally playing out scenarios, until Laura’s head shot up, a grin spreading across her face. 

 

“I got it!” She said excitedly, looking to Carmilla again. “My dad holds a formal dinner for the redcoats living there in their honor, and with Christmas coming up, nobody will suspect a thing! it’ll draw them all to the dining room and away from their rooms, giving you enough time to sneak upstairs to my room!”

 

Carmilla nearly choked on one of the potatoes she was eating. “Why me?” she said in a choked voice a moment later. She cleared her throat. 

 

“My dad can’t do it, he’ll be the one hosting the dinner, and Mel can’t because she needs to stay hidden. This entire plan would send Perry into hysterics. I can’t, for obvious reasons. You’re the upstanding Tory,”

 

Carmilla made a noise of disgust and set aside her empty bowl as she rolled her eyes. “Right,” She said begrudgingly. She ran a hand down her face, and when she opened her eyes again, she found Laura looking at her, big, hazel eyes pleading.

 

“Laura…” She said slowly, scowling as she shook her head slightly. 

 

“Carm, please,” She said, her voice imploring. “if they find that…so many people will die,”

 

Carmilla sighed softly, bowing her head for a moment. “Fine,” She said quietly. “I’ll do it,”

 

A blinding smile swept over Laura’s face, and she leaned forward, wrapping Carmilla in a tight hug. “Thank you!” Laura said, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” 

 

Carmilla stiffened slightly in Laura’s arms, taken off guard by the hug, but she eventually wrapped her arms around Laura’s waist a moment later, settling her chin on Laura’s shoulder. 

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Carmilla grumbled, absently swiping her thumb back and forth against Laura’s lower back.

 

Laura pulled away after a moment, grunting as she tugged on a sore muscle. When she caught Carmilla’s eyes, she suddenly felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly looked away. Carmilla’s looked slightly pink as well, but it must have just been the heat of the fire. 

 

“Ah…we should get some sleep,” Carmilla said after a moment, withdrawing her arms from around Laura, the back of her neck burning. 

 

“Right, yeah.” Laura said quickly, and let go, giving Carmilla a small smile before pulling the covers close to her chest and sinking under them. “Um, Carmilla?” She asked after a moment. 

 

Carmilla turned back, having been walking towards the small dressing screen on the other side of the room. “Yes?”

 

“Thank you,” Laura offered.

 

A small smile tugged at Carmilla’s lips. “Get some sleep, Laura.” 

 

//

 

Monday, Dec. 16th

 

"Perry?”  Carmilla called as she pulled the pot of porridge from the embers of the fire. 

 

“Yes Carmilla?” Perry answered as she bustled into the kitchen with an empty tray that had been filled with clean tankards and glasses a moment earlier. 

 

“Can you go to the Hollis bakery to get the bread, and could you ask Mr. Hollis to come to the tavern later tonight?”

 

Perry gave Carmilla an odd look, but nodded all the same. “Of course,” She said, and hurried off towards the office to fetch her cloak and gloves. 

 

\-------

 

Carmilla breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Mr. Hollis walk through the door.

 

Will and a group of his soldiers had come in for drinks nearly two hours, and they’d gotten steadily more sloshed. And loud. And rude. 

 

it was a wonder she hadn’t poured ale over all of them yet. 

 

 This was a welcome break, despite the seriousness of the matter. 

 

Carmilla watched as Sherman crossed the room, looking rather stiff, his eyes darting over to the table Will and his men sat at. 

 

“Evening, Carmilla,” Sherman said, taking his hat off and setting it on the bar. 

 

“Evening,” She nodded, and poured an ale out for him.

 

“Miss Perry said you needed to speak to me?” he asked, and nodded in thanks for the ale. 

 

Carmilla’s eyes darted over to Will, who was thankfully doubled over in his chair, laughing loudly at something one of his soldiers had said. “Laura had an idea,” She said, looking back towards Sherman. “She thought it would be lovely idea for you to throw a small dinner party in honor of the soldiers staying with you, to thank them for their service, and in honor of the upcoming holiday,”

 

Carmilla’s face was near expressionless as she spoke, and she busied herself with getting a piece of apple pie out for Sherman, but her insides tightened, nearly revolting at her words. 

 

Sherman seemed to be revolting at her words too.

 

“What?” He hissed, “how dare you suggest such a—” His rant topped short as Carmilla reached out and griped his hand, and he watched her slide a slip of paper up his sleeve with her thumb. 

 

“Just consider it,” She said quietly. “it would mean a great deal to your daughter,”

 

Sherman sighed quietly, and then nodded. 

 

“So, things are going well at your bakery?” Carmilla asked, quickly changing the subject as a hessian passed by the bar. 

 

Sherman glanced at the soldier out of the corner of his eye, and then nodded at Carmilla.  “They’re going well,” He nodded, digging into his pie as he stood at the counter. “we’ll be  starting to bake Christmas pastries soon,”

 

Carmilla nodded. “Let me know when you do, I’ll buy some to sell here. Takes a little pressure off Perry,”

 

Sherman chuckled, but it sounded a little forced. “I should get back to that actually,” He said as he finished his pie and set a few shillings down on the bar. “goodnight,” He said with a nod, and then turned to leave. 

 

“'Night,” Carmilla called.

 

Carmilla turned back to the tankards behind her with a sigh, mentally preparing herself to go serve Will’s table yet again. It was getting late and she wanted to close soon, but it didn’t look like they had any intention of leaving anytime soon. She scowled as she filled a pitcher with ale yet again, and walked over to their table. 

 

As she silently filled their tankards, she found herself paying attention to their conversation for the first time, sifting though it in her head for anything that could point to information she could pass on.

 

Her thought process suddenly stopped cold in its tracks, and her grip on the pitcher tightened as she walks back towards the bar. She set the pitcher down and disappeared down the hall and into her office, and she took a deep breath as she leaned back against the closed door.

 

She was spying.

 

She let out a humorless laugh. Yeah, she was spying. 

 

Laura had forced her hand.

 

She’d chosen a side. 

 

\-------

 

Carmilla sighed tiredly as she entered her bedroom, two plates in hand, heaped with leftover squash pie.

 

"Hi,” Laura said, sitting up. She set aside the book she’d been reading, and scooched over to give Carmilla some room. 

 

“Hey,” Carmilla said with a small smile. She noticed that the bruise around Laura’s eye was beginning to fade, and her mood lightened slightly. 

 

“Are…you okay?” Laura asked as she took the plate Carmilla handed her.

 

Carmilla sat down beside her and kicked off her shoes. “Just a long day,” She said, and cut into her piece of pie.

 

Laura nodded. “Did my dad come by?”

 

“He did,” Carmilla said, “I slipped him some instructions, hopefully he’ll be…agreeable,”

 

“I know he will be,” Laura nodded confidently. “he hates them. anything that’s a stick in the eye of the Crown, he’s up for.” She took a big bite of pie. “Oh, have you read this book recently? It’s amazing,” Laura went on to talk animatedly about the book that sat on her lap, the characters she liked, and those she found annoying.

 

Carmilla found herself smiling, this animated, happier woman sitting in front of her, for the first time in weeks, resembling the woman she used to flirt with every morning.

 

\-------

 

Sherman quickly closed the door to his room, locking it behind him. He took a nervous breath as he set his cane by the fireplace and took off his hat before finally slipping out the piece of paper Carmilla had hid up his sleeve. He unfolded it, and read it in the dim light from the dying fire.

 

Laura needs something from her room and I need to get up there to get it. Let me know when you’re ready to distract the soldiers with food and drink. Burn immediately after reading.  

 

Sherman ran a hand over his stubble, and nodded resolutely to himself. He tossed the paper into the embers, and it caught fire, curling into ash as he stacked kindling in the grate over it.

 

//

 

Tuesday Dec. 17th 

 

“Good morning, Carmilla!” Mr. Hollis said cheerfully as he strode across the main dining room of the tavern, his clothes dusted with snow and his silver-handled cane tapping against the floor with each step, a basket in his free hand. 

 

Carmilla looked up, and quirked an eyebrow. “You’re awfully chipper this morning,” She said, pausing as she wiped down the bar. 

 

“I’m planning a party, if you must know,” he said, smiling. “and, terribly sorry for the late notice, but I’ll be needing to purchase some wine and cider from you,”

 

“Of course,” Carmilla said as she leaned her hip on the bar. She took a deep breath, some tension uncoiling from her stomach. “When’s the party?”

 

“Tomorrow night,” He said happily, though his smile was strained. “i figured some festive cheer should be had, since it’s been so cold and dreary,” 

 

Carmilla nodded. “Well, I’ll go get those bottles for you,” She said, and strode down the hall towards the door to the cellar. When she descended the stairs, she felt a shiver crawl up her spine when she saw the cut ropes by the support beam, untouched since she’d brought Laura upstairs. She took a breath and shook off the crawling feeling at the back of her neck, and took two bottles of wine and two jugs of cider off of one of the shelves, and hurried upstairs. 

 

"Ah, wonderful,” Mr. Hollis said cheerfully as Carmilla came into view. 

 

“Is this enough?” She asked, placing the bottles and jugs on the counter. 

 

“Perfect,” He said, and counted out the coins he owed her. “oh, I almost forgot,” He said after passing the money over. He placed the basket on the counter, and in it was a a bundle wrapped in a white napkin. “Its gingerbread…Laura’s favorite.” He said with a strained smile. “as a thank you for your service on such a short notice, and a Christmas gift.”  

 

Camilla gave him a small smile and nodded. “Thank you, I…she’ll be very happy,”

 

\-------

 

Hours later, Carmilla looked up as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and her breath caught momentarily. 

 

Laura slowly descended the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing, eyes darting around the tavern dining room. Her hair was brushed out and tucked behind her ears, glowing softly in the firelight, and she was dressed in one of Carmilla’s dresses. It was a deep red, off white fabric peeking out over the chest and at the ends of the sleeves, hiding her bruised and scabbed wrists, and when Laura reached the bottom of the stairs, her face relaxed as her eyes fell on Carmilla.

 

“Hey,” Laura said quietly as she reached Carmilla. 

 

“Hey,” Carmilla said, slightly taken aback. “are you alright?” Her eyes looked Laura over, and she resisted the urge to gently run her fingers over the fading bruise around Laura’s eye. Laura was holding her her side, her ribs apparently still hurting, and she was limping slightly, but she still looked more like herself than she’d seen in what felt like a very long time.

 

Laura nodded. “I’m okay, I just, I needed to stretch my legs, and my parole covers the entire tavern, so...oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have any clothes so I had to borrow yours, but I’ll wash it for you, I just wanted to get out a little bit—” 

 

“It’s okay,” Carmilla said quickly. “it’s fine, I’m…I’m glad you’re feeling better,” She rested her hand on Laura’s forearm.  

 

“Can I help with anything?” Laura asked after a moment, her neck suddenly feeling rather warm.

 

“Oh, no, we’ve got it,” Carmilla said, “would you like to see Perry though? She’s in the kitchen,”

 

Laura’s face lit up immediately, and she nodded with a big grin. “I’d love to, I’ve missed her so much,"

 

Carmilla chuckled and led her back to the kitchen, where Perry was bustling about, keeping her eye on several different dishes that were cooking away in the large fireplace. She turned around and her face lit up when she saw Laura follow Carmilla into the kitchen.

 

“Laura!” Perry exclaimed excitedly, and rushed forward to hung Laura, but let go quickly when Laura let out a hiss of pain as Perry squeezed her ribs. “Oh no, I’m sorry, here, sit, are you hungry? There’s lots of food—” 

 

Perry proceeded to, almost forcefully, get Laura comfortable in a chair, and soon had an apple hand pie in Laura’s hand and a cup of tea on the table beside her. Carmilla chuckled softly under her breath and continued cooking and moving about the tavern, taking orders and pouring drinks. Every now and then she looked back to Laura, and found her with her nose in a book most of the time, her honey eyes darting back and forth as she read, munching on a second hand pie, blueberry this time. 

 

Once though, Carmilla looked over to find Laura watching her with curious eyes, but once Laura saw that Carmilla had caught her, her eyes widened slightly, and quickly darted back to the page she was on.

 

\-------

 

“Tired?” Laura asked as she watched Carmilla enter the room, looking exhausted with a steaming bowl in each hand. 

 

“Exhausted,” Carmilla said, and handed one of the bowls to Laura.

 

Laura was dressed in a nightgown again, her hair loose and a bit tussled from going back to bed after a few hours down in the kitchen. Carmilla smiled a little at her as she sat down against the bedpost at the end of the bed, settling her bowl in her lap. 

 

“Did you get some more sleep?” Carmilla continued as she stirred her stew to cool it off a bit. 

 

Laura nodded as she poked at her own dinner. “Yeah, I…I didn’t realize how much I missed things until I went downstairs today,” She said with a sad smile. “It was nice though, I’m glad you didn’t mind,”

 

“Of course I didn’t mind,” Carmilla said, “you can’t just stay up here night an day,”

 

Laura hummed.

 

“Oh, your dad came by this morning,” Carmilla said, and set aside her empty bowl. She pulled out the napkin bundle from the pocket of her apron, and set them down in front of Laura. “he’s agreed to your plan,”

 

Laura’s eyes lit up as the familiar scent of the cookies hit her nose, and she all but dove for the bundle, excitedly unwrapping it. “These are my favorite!” She exclaimed happily, snapping a gingerbread cookie in half. Her eyes softened as she chewed. “we’d make these every year to sell, and we’d always run out, but we always saved dozens for us and friends.” She took two cookies from the bundle and held them out to Carmilla with a soft smile.

 

Carmilla looked at them for a moment, and took them carefully. “Thank you,” She said, and smiled a little at Laura as she snapped a piece off and ate it. 

 

\-------

 

“Here, let me check your ribs,” Carmilla said a while later after they’d finished eating. 

 

Laura got to her feet with a wince, and pulled her nightgown up, exposing her stomach. Heat crept up the back of her neck as Carmila leaned down to inspect her ribs, Carmilla’s hand resting gently on her other side. 

 

Carmilla winced internally as her eyes fell on the deep purple and blue bruises that littered Laura’s stomach and sides. Anger burned deep in her gut at Will, who had delivered most of those bruises. Her fingers gently brushed across them, though pulled away and moved to Laura’s ribs when Carmilla felt Laura’s stomach quiver. Carmilla pressed ever so slightly against Laura’s ribs. 

 

“I can’t tell if they’re broken,” Carmilla said, somewhat frustrated as she straightened up again.

 

Laura let her nightgown fall again. “It just feels sore, and tight, not…sharp,” She said, trying to articulate what it felt like. 

 

Carmilla nodded. “Do you want some ice? there’s plenty outside,” She said with a small chuckle. 

 

Laura laughed softly. “No, it’s fine, lets just go to bed,” 

 

Carmilla nodded, and her hand slipped from Laura’s arm as she strode towards the screen to get changed.

 

Soon, the two of them were in bed, Carmilla’s cat curled up by their heads. Laura felt restless next to her, but Carmilla was quiet, waiting for Laura to talk when she was ready. The firelight danced across the room, throwing Lara’s face alternately into shadow, and then into warm light, and Carmilla couldn’t have fallen asleep if she tried. 

 

“Do you know why I started spying?” Laura said softly, finally, into the dim light. 

 

“Why?” Carmilla murmured, watching as Laura stared at the fabric that was draped over Carmilla’s bed. 

 

“The redcoats staying at my house…one of them killed my mother.” Laura said softly.

 

Ice spread through Carmilla’s insides, though she stayed quiet. 

 

“There was a scuffle one night, at dinner,” Laura continued, and Carmilla watched Laura’s vacant eyes in the firelight. “One of them had gotten drunk, too drunk, and my mother tried to take the bottle away from him, and he got angry, and so did the other soldiers, and dad tried to calm everyone down, but the first soldier pulled his pistol out and shot her.” Laura blinked. “I was outside, tossing the dirty dish water.”

 

“I…” Carmilla started, but then trailed off. “I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I’d heard that she’d passed, but…I didn’t know how,”

 

Laura nodded. “The soldier that shot her was arrested and sent back to England, but otherwise, it was kept quiet.”

 

Carmilla slowly found Laura’s hand under the covers, and squeezed gently. “She was a good woman,” Carmilla said softly. “I only met her a few times, but…she was always kind,”

 

Laura smiled a little, but remained quiet. 

 

“What do you want to do?” Carmilla asked after a few quiet moments. “When the war is over?” 

 

“I want to write,” Laura said, without having to think. “I want to spread knowledge, news. Maybe when all of this is over, I can convince a publisher to let me write for their paper,”

 

Carmilla smiled at the sense of hope and determination in Laura’s voice. “I think you’d be very good at that,” She said.

 

“What about you?” Laura asked, looking over to Carmilla for the first time. “what do you want?”

 

Carmilla was quiet for a while, mulling over the question. She hadn’t thought about it all that much, really. 

 

“I want to run my tavern,” She said after a while. “lead a quiet life. Read anything I can get my hands on. Maybe see more of this...new country. Find a woman, maybe, to settle down with.” She paused. “I’ve just been trying to keep my head down through the war and survive, but look how that turned out,” She looked to Laura with a playful smirk. 

 

Laura laughed softly, and squeezed Carmilla’s hand. “You’ll find what you want,” She said softly. 

 

Carmilla smiled a little. “You will too,”

 

Laura hummed, and then yawned, sinking down into the covers. “Get some sleep, Carm,” She murmured, her eyes closing. 

 

Carmilla watched her for a moment longer before settling down herself, and closing her eyes. 

 

“Goodnight, Laura.”

 

//

 

Wedensday, Dec. 18th

 

Carmilla’s feet crunched through the snow as she strode towards the clothesline, a basket of laundry held between her hand and her hip. She set the basket down with a tired sigh, and began hanging up the garments, placing the black petticoat Mel had asked her to hang as a signal towards the center of the line. Thankfully it wasn’t unusual  for her to hang dry clothes out in the cold to air them out.

 

She set the basket by the back door after a while, and strode around the tavern and towards town. Christmas was fast approaching, and with everything that had happened, she hadn’t been able to do much decorating, and she’d caught some disdainful looks from patrons and neighbors because of it. 

 

So here she was, in search of holly, laurel, and candles. 

 

She wandered between shops, avoiding slush and slick ice alike. She caught the sound of caroling occasionally, and for a moment it felt like everything was normal. How life used to be. It felt like Laura was going to visit later and they would flirt and dance around each other like they used to, and Carmilla would insist that the ciders Laura had were on the house, and Laura would still drop a shilling or two on the counter while giving her a playful look. 

 

Carmilla smiled a little. Things hadn’t really been simpler then, but she felt a twinge of longing for that time. Though, it was eclipsed by just wanting to get back home and to Laura, so she hurried along the road, pulling her cloak tightly around herself. 

 

\-------

 

Carmlla soon returned home to find a very unwelcome sight in the dining room of the tavern. 

 

Will was sitting impatiently at a table, an untouched tankard of ale in front of him, and it looked like he was grinding his teeth. 

 

“Carmilla,” He sad briskly, jumping to his feet as Carmilla closed the door behind her.

 

“What, William?” She asked disinterestedly, as she walked past him, heading to the counter to fetch a pair of shears. She carried her purchases and the shears to one of the tables by a window, and set everything down. She pulled out a long sprig of holly and cut the stem.

 

“Has your…friend, said anything about the state of the rebel army?” He asked, standing behind her, hands clasped behind his back. 

 

Carmilla glanced behind her at him, giving him a curious look. “Why do you care for a woman’s opinion on the war?” She asked as he turned back to the window, nestling a white taper candle amidst a cluster of holly and laurel boughs. 

 

“I am not looking for an opinion, I am simply looking for information.” He said, irritated. “She must have said something, obviously she’s sweet on you. That makes the tongue…loose,” 

 

Carmilla bristled internally, but pretended to think for a moment. “Actually she has said a few things,” 

 

“Yes?” Will prodded, following her to the next window. 

 

“With the rebel’s recent loses in New York, the soldiers are demoralized,” Carmilla said with a smirk. “they’re hopeless, deserters common. They don’t even punish deserters at the point. Laura’s been lamenting about this. She’s scared. Won’t shut up...”

 

“Really?” Will asked, intrigued. 

 

“Yes,” Carmilla said, nodding as she arranged another bundle on the next windowsill. “I don’t know why you’re keeping the guard posts by the river, honestly,” She said with a shrug. “the rebel forces are diminished, and the river is icy and treacherous to cross…you’re untouchable here.” Carmilla still had her back to him, and she hoped desperately that her voice sounded as even as she thought it did.

 

“Well,” Will said, his voice light. “that is excellent news,” He nodded to himself as Carmilla turned around to take another candle from the table. “I should go talk to my men…I don’t expect I’ll be here for supper tonight.” He said curtly, and then walked briskly out of the tavern.

 

Carmilla let out a low breath as he left, some tension leaving her body, though not all of it. Tension was becoming a part of her normalcy. She continued decorating the windows, and soon all of them were filled with holly and laurel, and later when the sun set, she’d light the candles. 

 

She had a single, small sprig of holly left in her hand, and she looked at it for a moment, turning it in her hand, before carefully tucking it into the pocket of her apron. 

 

\-------

 

“Here, don’t forget your bag,” Laura said, holding out Carmilla’s leather satchel.

 

Carmilla looked up and took it, slinging it over her shoulder and tucking it behind her back before putting her thick black cloak on. 

 

“Remember, the back door is most likely to be unlocked,” Laura said for the third time. “my room is the one to the right, closest to the top of the stairs. The doorknob sticks some so you might have to jiggle it,”

 

Carmilla nodded, but was quiet. She could see the nervousness in Laura’s eyes, and she wanted so badly to steady Laura's shaking hands as she tugged at Carmilla’s cloak, but she didn’t. 

 

“I understand,” She said finally, and nodded with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be quick, it’ll be fine.”

 

Laura looked at her, her honey eyes wide in the firelight, fingers twisting together anxiously. “Be careful, please,” Laura said, holding herself back for a moment before rushing forward and wrapping Carmilla in a tight hug, despite her protesting ribs. 

 

Carmilla let out a small huff of surprise, but then slowly wrapped her arms around Laura, taking her in. Her own scent had mingled with Laura’s, considering the amount of time Laura had spent in her room, and it made Carmilla’s insides quiver, and she resisted the urge to bury her nose in Laura’s hair and breathe deeply. 

 

“It’ll be okay,” Carmilla said, a hand lifting to cradle the back of Laura’s head. “I’ll be back soon,”

 

Laura released her after a moment, her eyes still worried, and she reluctantly let go where her hands had lingered after she’d pulled back. 

 

Carmilla reached down into the pocket of her apron, and smiled a little as she pulled out the little spin of holly, and carefully tucked it behind Laura’s ear.

 

\-------

 

Click.

 

Carmilla let out a slow breath as the back door to Mr. Hollis’ house opened soundlessly. She peered in, having opened the door just a crack, and when she saw that the immediate vicinity was clear, she slipped in and closed the door silently before anyone could feel the icy breeze from outside. 

 

The Hollis house was a handsome saltbox house, the outside painted red, the front door black. The bakery was attached to the house by a narrow hallway that linked the two buildings, and smoke rose from the three chimneys that crowned the house. The one that resided in the bakery only smoldered slightly, seeing that it was late and probably hadn’t been tended in a while. 

 

Laughter and violin music met Carmilla's ears as she stepped inside, and she waited for a moment, getting her bearings. 

 

She was in a small alcove, a narrow closet door to her left, a full sized door to her right. The walls were painted blue, as well as the doors, and on the wall to the left of the full door hung a painting. The sound of laughter and chatter was coming from her left, though it was muffled. Probably another room in between them. Carmilla peeked around the corner to her left, staying in the shadows, and she was relieved to see that the stairs to the second floor were only a few feet away from where she stood. 

 

Carmilla waits silently for a few minutes, watching as people sporadically walked from the kitchen to the dining room and back, but after a while, the movement stopped. Carmilla watched for a moment more, and when the hall remained still, she quietly slipped off her boots, and darted towards and then up the stairs, her feet quietly padding along the planks of time-worn wood. 

 

She paused at the top of the stairs, hidden in shadows and holding her breath as she watched out of the corner of her eye as a soldier passed the stairs. When they were out of sight, she reached for the doorknob to Laura’s room.

 

A tiny smile cracked Carmilla’s lips as she tried to turn it. 

 

Laura was right, it did stick.

 

Carmilla jiggly it carefully, and soon it turned fully, and Carmilla darted into the room, silently closing the door behind her. 

 

She looked around, teeth gritting at what she saw. 

 

There was a medium sized bed in the corner by the window, and a few shelves on the wall, a desk and a chair with spindly legs, all things that clearly belonged to Laura, but they were layered with things that were very obviously not Laura’s. 

 

Three muskets stood up against the wall, two leather and canvas packs beside them. 

 

There was a cot on the other side of the room, and a red British uniform was strewn haphazardly across Laura’s bed, two pairs of boots by the door. 

 

The blanket under the uniform coat was yellow and orange patchwork, and the pillow at the head of the bed was yellow. They both looked like Laura’s, and Carmilla felt her fist clench.

 

Shaking herself, Carmilla moved forward towards the window and knelt down, looking for the loose floorboard that Laura had told her about. She found it after a moment, but when her fingers slid beneath the plank, she heard the faint sound of feet ascending the stairs. 

 

Heart leaping into her throat, Carmilla nudged the plank back into place and hurried towards the door, pressing herself against the wall adjacent to the door’s hinges. 

 

A moment later the door swung open, and Carmilla held her breath as a soldier walked in, and she heard him rummage through his things before walking back out through the doorway and closing the door behind him. 

 

Carmilla waited a few moments for the footsteps to fade, her heart thumping painfully in her chest before she eventually tiptoed forward again and carefully removed the plank, her hands shaking slightly as she did it. 

 

Below the floorboard was a leather-bound journal wrapped with a piece of cord, several folded papers tucked under the cord. She snatched it quickly and shoved it into her bag, and felt around for anything else in the cubby, but felt nothing. The bag weighed heavily on her back as she peered out the door, only opening the door a crack before she slipped out into the hall again, and slowly descended the stairs. She darted around the corner towards the back door when she heard a burst of raucous laughter from the dining room. 

 

Shoes in hand and the bag tucked behind her cloak, Carmilla stepped out into the snow, bare feet stinging from the cold. 

 

\-------

 

“Carm!” Laura whispered suddenly, jumping to her feet as Carmilla entered the room. She stepped forward quickly and wrapped Carmilla in a tight hug, swallowing a grunt as she nudged her bruises. “Are you okay? How did it go?” She asked, pulling back. She nearly laid her hand on Carmilla’s cheek, but thought better of it. 

 

Carmilla ws quiet for a moment, startled by Laura’s sudden closeness. “I’m okay,” She said, her arms loosely slung around Laura. “It went fine, I got it,” She gave Laura a tired smile, her hand momentarily resting on Laura’s hips before she let her go. 

 

Laura smiled at her, breathing a sigh of relief. “Good, that’s..that’s good,” She said, awkwardly stepping back as she watched Camilla unfasten her cloak and hang it up. She took off the bag as well, and stuffed it under the mattress. 

 

Carmilla sat on her bed, running a hand down her face. She was tired, exhausted, but she felt better just being home just…being near Laura. 

 

Laura sat down beside her and placed a tentative hand on Carmilla’s knee. “You sure you’re okay?” 

 

Carmilla looked up at her with a small smile, but paused momentarily when she saw that the holly sprig was still tucked behind Laura’s ear. “Yeah,” She said, “just tired…nearly getting caught takes a lot out of a girl.” She said with a chuckle. Laura’s eyes widened, and Carmilla quickly laid a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Nearly,” She said again. “they didn’t see me,”

 

Laura nodded. “Okay.” She said. “Do you want to go to sleep?” 

 

Carmilla nodded. “its been a long day,” She murmured.

 

“Here, let me help, you’re tired,” Laura said, nudging Carmilla to her feet. She stood up as well, and turned Carmilla around, and began unbuttoning the back of her bodice. “is this okay?” She asked, her hands pausing after a few buttons. 

 

“It’s fine,” Carmilla said, looking back at Laura over her shoulder. Her neck warmed suddenly. 

 

Laura deftly undid the buttons, and pushed aside the fabric just enough to unlace Carmilla’s stay without actually removing anything. “There,” She said, pulling back. 

 

“I was really dreading that,” Carmilla said with a small chuckle. “I could unlace yours, if you’d like,” She offered, turning around. 

 

Laura nodded and turned, and Carmilla carefully mimicked Laura’s motions, slipping each button through it’s hole and then loosening the laces of Laura’s stay. Laura let out a sigh as it loosened, and Carmilla watched as Laura’s shoulders sagged. Usually stays were rather comfortable, but Carmilla imagined that Laura’s must have been pressing into her bruises. 

 

“I’ll change behind he screen,” Carmilla said, and ducked behind it to give Laura some privacy. 

 

Carmilla soon climbed under the covers beside Laura, and pulled the blankets up to her shoulder, relishing in the warmth of her covers. Her feet were still cold from when she’d taken a few steps in the snow before getting her shoes back on. 

 

“Hey, Carm?” Laura asked quietly in the dark, her hand finding Carmilla’s under the covers. 

 

"Yeah?” Carmilla hummed, smiling slightly into her pillow as Laura laced their fingers together.

 

“Thanks,” Laura whispered.

 

Carmilla stroked Laura’s knuckles a few times with her thumb. “Of course, cupcake,”

 

//

 

Thursday, Dec. 19th

 

Carmilla woke up early as she always did, but something was different this time that she couldn’t immediately put her finger on.

 

But then it moved against her. 

 

Waking up completely now, Carmilla looked down to find Laura curled into her chest, her own arm slung over Laura’s waist, that soft scent that was inexplicably Laura washing over her.  

 

Laura was sound asleep, arms curled up to her chest, her mussed hair shining golden in the weak winter sunlight that streaming in through the gap in the curtains. her breathing was soft, steady, and occasionally she’d make a little noise in the back of her throat when she moved.

 

Carmilla wanted nothing more than to stay like this all day. 

 

But she had a tavern to run.

 

Carmilla slowly pulled her arm back, pausing for a moment when Laura made a small noise of protest, but when Carmilla’s eyes looked to Laura’s face, she found the Laura was still asleep. Carmilla smiled as she watched Laura’s eyebrows furrow, her nose bunching up momentarily, but her features soon relaxed again, and she settled back down into the pillows. 

 

Carmilla lingered for a moment, watching her, before she forced herself to get up and dressed for the day.

 

\-------

 

Carmilla sighed heavily under her breath as she heard the tavern door open behind her. 

 

“We’re closed,” She said irritably as she placed tankards on the shelves behind the bar. “find your drinks elsewhere.”

 

“I won’t bother you long,” said a familiar voice. “I just need a room,”

 

Carmilla turned around to find Mel standing in front of the bar, a pack slung over her shoulder, looking cold and tired. She nodded, and took a key from the rack that was nailed to the wall, and slid it across the bar as Mel placed some coins down as payment. 

 

Carmilla’s other tenant, who had come down to read by the fire, glanced between the two of them before returning to their book.

 

“Very well,” Carmilla said, “I’ll bring your supper up when you’re settled,” 

 

“Many thanks,” Mel nodded, and headed towards the stairs. 

 

Carmilla soon ascended the stairs, carrying a tray of hot soup and bread, and a tankard of ale, and quietly made her way down the hall to Mel’s room. She tapped against the door with the toe of her shoe, and slipped inside when Mel opened the door. 

 

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” Carmilla said as she set down the tray.

 

Mel closed the door. “I said I’d have someone watching for your signal. So, whats the news?” 

 

“We’ve gotten Will to agree to parole for Laura,” Carmilla said, leaning her hip on the wall. “He’s left her alone for the last few days, though he came prying the other day, asking me if Laura’s mentioned anything of worth.”

 

“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” Mel asked, her eyes growing suspicious suddenly. 

 

Carmilla gave her a look. “No,” She said, “nothing true, at least. I told him the rebel army was falling apart, more or less. Laura never told me that. I though it might make him cocky. Cockier.” She said with a huff as she rolled her eyes. “I though it might make him sloppy with his assignments,”

 

Mel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re in deep now, huh?” She said amusedly. “Really though, that’s…incredibly helpful. Keep that up, will you?” 

 

Carmilla nodded. “We also recovered her documents from her father’s house last night,” 

 

Mel’s head shot up. “What?” She asked, alarmed. 

 

“Laura had her things, her codebook, notes, hidden under a loose floorboard in her room,” Carmilla explained, stealing a piece of bread from the tray she’d brought up. She ripped off a hunk. “Her father is aware to some extent of what’s been going on. He hosted a Christmas party for the soldiers quartered there so I could get up to her room and get the book,”

 

“You snuck into a lobsterback’s room to retrieve documents that would get you hanged if you were found with them?” Mel asked, slightly dumbfounded. Carmilla shrugged a shoulder. “That’s brilliant.” Mel said, clearly impressed. She chuckled. “You’d do anything for that girl, wouldn’t you?”

 

Carmilla looked back towards her at that, remaining quiet for a moment. “Yes,” She said after a moment. “I would,”

 

Mel hummed. “What you two are doing is perfect,” She said, digging into her soup finally. “keep doing it, yeah?”

 

Carmilla nodded. “When I come back for the tray I’ll bring the book,”

 

“Right.” Mel nodded, and took a long drink of ale. “So, I’ve talked to my people, and we have an idea for how to get Laura out. She sat back and watched as Carmilla straightened, clearly interested. 

 

“Yes?” Carmilla prompted.

 

“I can get here Sunday, in the middle of the night with a few of my people,” She said, “we can stage a raid, come in here guns blazing raving about the Tory with who own the place—“ Carmilla rolled her eyes again. “—and we can run upstairs, grab Laura as a 'hostage', and run for it. We may have to smash a plate or two. Maybe a bullet hole or two in the wall?” 

 

Carmilla scowled slightly. “I have some money saved, I’ll get it repaired,” she grumbled. “whatever helps get her out, I’m okay with.”

 

Mel nodded, and then let out a frustrated sigh. “I really wish we could actually talk to L about this,”

 

“I agree,” Carmilla sighed, running a hand through her hair. “it’s better this way though. Plausible deniability.”

 

“Christ,” Mel said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll be happy when all of this is over.”

 

“You and me both.” Carmilla pushed herself off the wall, and walked towards the door. “I’ll talk to her and let you know what she says in the morning,” She said, hand resting on the doorknob. 

 

Mel nodded. “Night,”

 

//

 

Two days later

 

Saturday, Dec. 21st 

 

Carmilla stiffened slightly when she saw the redcoat enter her tavern, heading towards the bar with his musket slung over his shoulder.

 

“Miss,” He greeted cheerily, removing his hat. “I require a room. My current arrangement has gotten rather crowded,” he said with a chuckle that he clearly thought was charming. 

 

Carmilla looked him over momentarily. He looked oddly cheerful for a soldier, happy-go-lucky even. Must be a new recruit. Young too, probably younger than her. Didn’t seem to be the killing type, considering the clumsy way he held his musket. 

 

But still, he was a regular. 

 

And that still caused Carmilla’s veins to turn to ice. 

 

“Of course,” She forced out, and took a key from the rack. “one just opened up,”

 

"Excellent,” he said, still unusually chipper. “What time is supper?”

 

“Seven,” 

 

He nodded. “Wonderful,” he said, and with that, he headed towards the stairs to his room.

 

Carmilla let out a breath as he walked away, and served another few customers before stealing away to the kitchen.

 

“Perry?” She called, walking in. 

 

“Yes dear?” Perry answered, looking up from the potatoes she was peeling. 

 

“I’m going to go take my breakfast,” Carmilla said, untying her apron and hanging it up. “can you watch the bar in the meantime?”

 

“Of course,” Perry said with a smile as she brushed her hands off. “here,” She took a knife and cut two thick pieces off the pound cake that they’d saved for themselves that morning, and wrapped it in a napkin.

 

Carmilla smiled and nodded at Perry before turning to go to her room. 

 

\-------

 

“Carm, that’s perfect!” Laura said, smiling as she held her slice of pound cake, having stopped mid-bite to speak.

 

“having a redcoat staying here, tonight, is perfect?” Carmilla asked disbelievingly. 

 

“Carm, think about it,” Laura implored. “Mel and our friends come in here to attack you and kidnap me, we have a witness. A witness in a uniform!” Laura exclaimed. “it proves that you’re the victim!” 

 

\-------

 

Carmilla stood at the window of her room, watching as heavy snowflakes began to fall outside. She’d seen the dark, brooding clouds off in the distance all day, but they’d rolled in fast as the sun was setting. 

 

“Do you think the snow will slow them down?” Laura asked, coming up to stand beside Carmilla.

 

Carmilla looked towards her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, cutie,” She said with a smile that she hoped was encouraging. 

 

Carmilla had watched Laura’s fidgety hands for the last hour, since she’d brought their dinner up. Everyone had hurried home to prepare for the storm, so with no customers, Carmilla had sent Perry home and closed up early. 

 

They were both nervous. Scared.

 

“How are you ribs?” Carmilla asked after a moment, laying a hand on Laura’s arm and fully turning towards her now. 

 

Laura’s hand, that had perpetually picking at one of the nails on her other hand stilled finally. “They’re okay,” Laura said. “riding tomorrow won’t be fun, but they’re better than they were.”

 

“That’s good at least,” Carmilla said with a slight nod. 

 

Tucked under Carmilla’s bed sat a satchel stuffed with thing Laura would need on the road to the rebel camp. Warm clothes to change into once they were a safe enough distance from camp, dried fruit, cheese, and bread to eat. Perry had stolen some of her father’s clothes, seeing as pants would be easier to ride in, and Carmilla had folded up her spare cloak and tucked it in overtop everything else. in the front pocket were the last few gingerbread cookies, and at the bottom of the bag was the book Laura had been reading since Carmilla had brought her upstairs.   

 

Laura turned to sit on the bed, and Carmilla followed. They’d both changed into their sleep clothes, and they’d meant to go to sleep nearly an hour ago, but neither of them could sit still long enough to get under the covers. 

 

Laura broke a piece off of one of the leftover hand pies Carmilla had brought up for them to snack on, and studied it for a moment before she looked up at Carmilla.

 

“You never answered my question,” Laura said.

 

Carmilla looked up at her from where she’d been settling down on the bed, her back against the bedpost. 

 

“What?” Carmilla asked, her brow furrowing.

 

Laura moved closer. “You never answered my question,” She said again. “why have you been helping me?” 

 

Carmilla looked down at her hands, her heart rising into her throat at the earnest, pleading look in Laura’s eyes. 

 

“I never really cared much about this war,” Carmilla said after a moment, looking up at Laura for a moment before her eyes fell to her hands again. “I don’t like the British any more than you do, but mostly, I was just trying to keep my head down. Survive. Wait until I didn’t have to suffer my brother’s presence anymore. Try to cary on with my life. None of this matters, really. In the grand spectrum of things, none of this makes any difference. the sun will still rise and set, the season will change, time will go on. None of this means anything.” Laura went to protest, but Carmilla gently placed a finger over her lips. “Let me finish,” She said softly. “If…if none of this means anything, than the only thing that means something, is what we do. What you do. And you’ve done so much. Watching you, seeing how much all of this means to you, how you’re fighting so hard to help. That effort may be a drop in the bucket, a little thread in this grand tapestry...but it is so beautiful, the way you try."

 

Carmilla watched as Laura swallowed, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted desperately to kiss Laura, but instead she reached out and and brushed away the stray tear that had spilled over, her hand cupping Laura’s cheek. Laura’s warm hand raised, and covered Carmilla’s, holding Carmilla’s hand to her cheek for a moment before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s neck, pulling herself close to Carmilla.

 

Carmilla pulled her in, fingers tangling in Laura’s hair, and she held her tight.

 

It felt like ages had passed, but eventually Laura pulled away, her eyes red and her cheeks wet, and it wasn’t until Laura reached out and brushed her thumb along Carmilla’s cheek the Carmilla noticed that her own cheeks were wet as well. 

 

Laura’s hand fell to Carmilla’s, and she tugged her closer, pulling back the covers, and silently they both slipped beneath them, curling around each other against the soft bedding.

 

Nether of them said a word as they lay awake for hours, listening to each other breathe. 

 

//

 

Sunday, Dec. 22nd 

 

Laura jumped as they heard a crash downstairs, her hand landing on Carmilla’s wrist in the dark, and gripping tightly. 

 

Carmilla looked to Laura, her hand falling on Laura’s.

 

“It’s time,” Laura croaked. 

 

The day had passed far too quickly, the clock seeming to jump ahead another hour every time Carmilla looked at it, but as soon as the sun set and she closed the tavern door, time had slowed to an agonizing crawl. her and Laura had restlessly been moving about camilla’s bedroom all night, though they kept their footsteps light and the lights low to keep ups appearances. They’d moved the satchel behind the bed rather than under it, so Laura could grab it quickly on the way out, and Laura had slipped on her old boots that she’d been wearing at the beginning of all of this. 

 

The crash downstairs was followed by whoops and yells, and the sound of breaking glass and ceramic, and soon, heavy footfalls could be heard coming up the stairs. 

 

“Traitor! Tory bitch!” The muffled voices screamed as they drew closer to the door. 

 

Heart in her throat, Carmilla pulled Laura to her feet and then ducked down again for the bag, and handed it to Laura, who swung it onto her shoulder just as Carmilla’s bedroom door crashed open, the door smashing into the wall. 

 

An arrow whizzed by Carmilla's head and embedded itself into the wall, and another figure let loose a bullet into the wall beside the fireplace, the blow deafening, but harmless. 

 

“A little fucking closer next time, huh?” Carmilla hissed as Mel revealed herself. 

 

“Has to look real, grumpy.” Mel smirked, and then looked to Laura. “Nice to see you again, 307,”

 

“307?” Carmilla asked, looking confused. 

 

“My codename,” Laura said, her hand still gripping Carmilla’s.

 

“Yours was 334,” piped up a gangly man behind Mel as he looked at Carmilla. 

 

“Kirsch!” Laura smiled, though it was short lived. 

 

“I hate to break up this little reunion, but there’s people coming down the hall,” Said a second woman as she ducked her head in through the door.

 

“Coming, Charlotte,” Mel said, glancing back at her with a little smile. 

 

“Carm,” Laura said suddenly, “come with me, please, come with us,” She gripped Carmila’s forearms, any shred of joy having suddenly left her face, replaced by desperation. 

 

“I can’t it’ll ruin the story, you need to go, now,” Carmilla insisted, pushing Laura towards Mel. “please,”

 

"Carm—” Laura said again, tears starting to fall, but she was cut off as Carmilla suddenly pulled her close, and pressed her lips to Laura’s. 

 

The kiss was far too quick for either of them, but it was sweet, and Carmilla felt a welling in her chest as Laura kissed her back feverishly that she’d never felt before. 

 

Laura tasted of cinnamon. 

 

“Go, please,” Carmilla begged, pressing her forehead to Laura’s. She pressed another kiss to Laura’s lips and let go of her as kirsch grabbed Laura’s hand. 

 

“Gotta go, little spy,” He said, tugging her towards him. 

 

“I’ll find you,” Laura said frantically, “I’ll come back, I promise,” 

 

And with that, Kirsch scooped Laura up, and the four of them were gone in a flash, barreling down the stairs.

 

Carmilla ran her hands through her hair, mussing it up, and she put on what was hopefully a horrified face as she ran out into the hallway, clutching at the front of her nightgown.

 

“Miss! Miss!” The redcoat called, running down the hall. he was in his sleep clothes as well, his white wig sitting haphazardly on his head, a loaded pistol in hand. “Which way did they go?!”

 

“No! Carmilla cried frantically, “there’s too many of them, call for help!”

 

The soldier nodded. “Call for help, right, call for help,” He muttered to himself as he ran down the stairs and scurried out the back door, running towards the garrison down the street. 

 

Carmilla ran down the stairs after him, her bare feet thudding against the floor as she ran towards the front door. 

 

In the distance, she could make out four silhouettes mounting horses, and she felt relief wash over her, but her heart broke at the same time. 

 

She watched for another moment, but torches being lit at the garrison and the hessian camp caught her attention, and she ducked back inside as yelling and orders being barked could be heard. She heard more scuffling upstairs, her other two tenants seeming to think it was safe enough to come down. 

 

Carmilla pulled back as she stepped on a piece of glass, but an idea suddenly came to mind. She reached down and snatched it up, and she lightly ran it across her cheek, not deep enough to scar, but enough to bleed.

 

She had to look the victim. 

 

“Carmilla!” A voice bellowed from down the street, accompanied by heavy footfalls. “Carmilla!” 

 

Carmilla looked through the window to see her brother running towards the tavern, musket in hand, a furious look on his face. 

 

He ran into the tavern, and towards his sister. 

 

“What happened?!” He demanded.

 

“I was attacked!” Carmilla cried, hating the fake horrified lilt in her own voice. “they, they smashed through the door and shot at me, and they took her, I couldn’t stop them!”

 

Will studied her for a moment, and then growled and handed her a handkerchief for her cheek. He looked towards the fireplace, and when his eyes landed on the arrow that was jutting out of the portrait of King George, embedded right between the eyes, he let out an enraged yell, grabbing the nearest tankard and smashing it against the wall. 

 

Carmilla’s knees were weak with adrenaline as she watched him, but she felt that relief grow in her chest. She knew Laura wasn’t out of the woods yet, but she had a fighting chance. 

 

\-------

 

When Carmilla finally went back up to her room, hours later, after questions upon questions from Will, she sat on her bed, running a hand through her hair. The blood on her cheek had mingled with her tears, and both were dried to her skin, but she didn’t have the energy to wash her face.

 

She just wanted to sleep.

 

She shed the sweater she’d pulled on before, and pulled the covers back, climbing in on what had become Laura’s side of the bed, and buried her face in the pillow Laura had been using, breathing in the soft cent of her that lingered on the fabric. 

 

Carmilla’s eyes closed, and she was nearly asleep when the hand under her pillow closed around something. She dragged her eyes open again, brow furrowed in confusion as she pulled her hand out from under her pillow, and she felt a fresh lump form in her throat when she saw what she was clutching. 

 

In her hand was a long, slim braid of honey hair, tied at both ends with red thread.

 

//

 

Three days later

 

Wednesday, Dec. 25th. Christmas Day

 

The sound of echoing gunfire and screams woke Carmilla from a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. 

 

Carmilla whipped the covers off and got to her feet, running to the window. In the street, she could see people running to and fro, fires and torches being lit near the garrison. Carmilla rushed to get dressed, and in an old, tatty pair of breeches that had one belonged to her brother and a shirt that had been left behind by a tenant, she raced down the stairs, unbuckled shoes clomping loudly against the planks. 

 

Carmilla rushed to the door of the tavern and threw it open, and when she made it to the back of the tavern, she was greeted with an incredible sight. 

 

The river was dotted with long boats, each teaming with Continental soldiers, muskets ready. Just how many there were she didn’t know, due to the fog bank that hung over the frozen river. A dozen or so had hit land already, and at the front she saw a tall figure in a tricorn hat and a large, billowing cloak lined in red satin.

 

The soldiers were disembarking the boats as fast as they could rushing forward into the streets and towards the British garrison and the Hessian camp. 

 

Carmilla backed up against the back wall of the tavern, heart hammering in her chest as she collected her thoughts. 

 

Keeping an eye out, she skirted around the tavern hurriedly and ran back inside towards the kitchen. 

 

The rest of the night was a blur, Carmilla acting on instinct as she ran back and forth from the kitchen and back fetching clean water, food and ale to give to the wounded rebels who took shelter in her tavern. At one point she ran into the street to drag a scrawny continental soldier inside that had gotten shot in the leg. 

 

Thank god one of her tenants had been a doctor who was passing through. 

 

//

 

Thursday, Dec. 26th

 

Everything felt fuzzy. 

 

Carmilla sat at one of the tables near the bar, staring off into nothingness as she nursed a  large tankard of ale. She was only about halfway through it, though. 

 

Around her, the tavern was a mess. 

 

Stray bullets had smashed two more of her windows. Three wounded continental soldiers were laid out on the floor near the fire, Carmilla’s doctor tenant tending to them. She could still hear chattering and yelling outside, but it was minimal, the whistling, icy wind causing a strange calm to fall over the town. 

 

The sun was up pushing weakly through lingering clouds to shine down on smoldering fires, and the wreckage that was once the town church, where the British garrison had been stationed. Bodies in various uniforms lay in the streets, and those who weren’t too worse for wear slowly moved about, heaving them onto carts to be taken away and properly buried. 

 

Nearly all the Hessians had been captured. Those who weren’t, were dead. Most of the British were dead. 

 

Carmilla was covered in muck from the streets, soot and blood. Some of it was her own, but most of it wasn’t. her hair was tangled and pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail with a stray bit of string she’d found. the cut on her cheek had reopened, and it stung but she had a hard time feeling it. The cuffs of her sleeves were soaked red. 

 

When the fighting had stopped, a few soldiers, upon seeing that the tavern had become a makeshift hospital, brought wood and nails and boarded up the broken windows to try to keep the heat in. The room was just starting to warm up again. She’d have to feed the fire again in a few minutes.

 

The only thing keeping Carmilla somewhat present was the fact that this attack meant that Laura had reached the rebel camp and relayed her message. 

 

Laura was safe, far away from all of this. 

 

Carmilla twirled the long braid of Laura’s hair between her fingers like a rosary. 

 

Carmilla came back to herself when she heard the front door open, and she turned to look towards it when a tall woman stepped in. She was dressed in tall, black leather riding boots, pale yellow breeches that were stained with blood and dirt, a white shirt and waistcoat, and a-now loosened-white cravat under a blue and white uniform coat. Her red hair was tussled and escaping its ribbon. Under her arm was cradled a visored helmet of black and gold, white horse hair flowing from the crest on it’s crown, a blue sash tied around the front of it. A saber hung from her hip, and she looked exhausted. 

 

Carmilla watched as the woman approached her, and dropped into the seat across from her, placing her helmet on the table with a soft thud. 

 

“Carmilla Karnstein?” The woman asked, leaning back into her chair. 

 

“Who’s asking?” Carmilla asked after a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. her voice was scratchy and cracked from lack of sleep and the cold. 

 

“Danny Lawrence,” The woman said, “Captain of the Second Continental Light Dragoons, and Washington’s Head of Intelligence.” She held her hand out across the table. 

 

“Good for you,” Carmilla said warily as she briefly shook Danny’s hand, but she couldn’t help her change in posture at Danny’s mention of Washington’s intelligence ring.

 

“Laura sent me,” Danny said, and as soon as the words left her lips, Carmilla sat up, elbows landing on the table.

 

“Is she alright?” Camilla demanded, “Is she safe?”

 

“She is, she’s fine,” Danny assured. “She’s resting back at camp. The ride to camp was long, but she’s doing alright.” She reached back and pulled the ribbon from her hair, and pushed some fly-aways from her eyes. “She asked me to check on you, but I also owe you…many, many thanks. You and Laura are largely the reason why this attack was so successful.”

 

“It was mostly Laura,” Carmilla said, sitting back again and taking a long drink of ale. “Mel mostly orchestrated her escape, but everything else was Laura.”

 

“I agree,” Danny nodded. “but you kept her safe in the meantime, and that means everything. I don’t think we could have recovered from the blow if the British had discovered Laura’s notes, or if you hadn’t intervened. That being said, I’m sorry that I was partially the reason why she was taken in the first place.”

 

Carmilla eyes snapped to Danny’s, and she felt anger begin to brew in her gut. “What?” She ground out.

 

“Laura was meeting with me the day she was captured,” Danny sighed, eyes full of regret. “she screamed at me to run because I already had her report, and I did. I hated myself for it, but I did. I suppose she thought it’d be better if one of us could get the word back to Washington that her cover was blown.”

 

Carmilla was quiet for a long moment, but then let out a sigh. “I’ll never forget that you helped put her in danger, but...she’s okay, so I suppose that deserves a cider.” 

 

//

 

Six days later

 

Wednesday, Jan. 1st

 

Trenton was beginning to look like…Trenton, again. 

 

Slowly.

 

Debris were being cleaned up, steady and sure, and frantic quick repairs were being replaced with full, proper repairs on some buildings, and where they didn’t have the right materials, sturdier temporary repairs were being made. The dead were being dealt with steadily. 

 

There were people in the streets again. Residents, not just soldiers. 

 

The most jarring difference was that the soldiers who walked in the streets were dressed in blue, not in red and green. 

 

Carmilla’s tavern was slowly being cleaned up. her windows were now properly boarded up and it was warm inside again. She was eagerly waiting for the ports to become functional again so she could send orders for new windowpanes and paint, but in the meantime, Perry had been helping her scrub the floors, and a carpenter friend of Perry’s father had offered to help repair a few of the chairs that had been broken. 

 

Carmilla herself had ripped the portrait of King George off the wall, and tossed it into the fire, only Laura on her mind. 

 

It was starting to look almost normal again. 

 

Almost.

 

her food stores were running a bit low, seeing as trade had been interrupted by the attack, but it looked like shipments would be coming in again soon. 

 

Carmilla had stepped out of the front door to dump a bucket of dirty dishwater when she heard it. 

 

Laughter sounded from up the street, followed by the snorting of several horses, and when Carmila turned to look, her eyes fell on five figures, all of them on horseback as the group stopped at the top of the hill. Mel rode in the center, her horse laden with a few saddlebags. Kirsch was to her right, and a couple more horses were behind her, but Carmilla could only see the woman riding to Mel’s left.

 

Atop a brindle horse sat Laura, wrapped in a thick black cloak, brown leather riding boots on her feet. She was dressed in those same tatty breeches, though she’d added leg wraps for warmth, and the collar of a white shirt poked out from the neck of the cloak. A slightly tatty black tricorn hat sat on her head, and her hair was whipping about in the icy wind. Her eyes were bright, and her face was scraped ad bruised still, but she was lively and safe, and Carmilla found herself staring. 

 

When Laura saw her, a blinding grin spread across her face, and Carmilla felt herself begin to smile as well when Laura stood up in her stirrups, waving happily at her. 

 

fin. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
